


Right Time. Right Place.

by Pondermoniums



Category: Deadpool (2016), Spider-Man - All Media Types, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Blow Jobs, Coffee Shops, Decapitation, Depressed Peter, Depression, Epic Battles, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, Sexual Humor, Short Chapters, Smitten Wade, difficulty orgasming, good with kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-03-27 01:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13870134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pondermoniums/pseuds/Pondermoniums
Summary: Gwen is dead. MJ broke up with him for good. It is safe to say Peter’s love life is nonexistent at this point.Deadpool’s fiancée almost died twice so they’re on “an extended semi-permanent, most likely permanent break.”Sometimes you just need to fall off a building to find the right person to catch you.





	1. Lovely Day for a Webbing

**Author's Note:**

> I debated whether or not to post this because I am certainly no SpideyPool/Marvel Comics expert but I love this pair, and it's my damn birthday, so I'm going to do what I want. I love sharing my stories with you all, so if you want some angst and ooey-gooey smutty times, then stick around~ I hope you enjoy <3

“It’s been a while since I crashed a wedding,” Wade said to no one in particular as the elevator opened. The rooftop wedding was resplendent in billowing curtains hanging on expensive lattices covered in ivy.

“Are the plants fake? Ooooh, they’re real! _They’re real,”_ he hissed in awe to passersby staring at him. He had tried to dress up; his black bowtie matched his suit and everything.

He rotated and sat at a table as he said, “Eh, I can’t blame them. It’s rude to show up the bride at her wedding. But I can’t help it. I look good in red and there’s a nice ripe _ass wipe_ who’s going to feel some holy consummation with my sword.”

He looked at the elderly man sitting beside him eating glazed meatballs on tiny silver toothpicks. He looked up as if he had not been listening. “Weddings always remind me of how long it’s been since I saw breasts.”

Wade was silent for a long moment. “I never thought I would discover a goal of what _not_ to become. Then again, I’m already the poster child for that.”

By this point the guests had spread the word that a strange masked crasher was there, and security guards were mingling with the waiters carrying platters of champagne. “Hm. Time to work.”

He reached for a flute, the golden bubbly spilling over his mask more than getting in his mouth before he took off in a sprint down the aisle. Technically the wedding was already over, but the reception guests startled out of his way.

“Down the aisle. Creepy priest in sight. Target locked. And!” he narrated, his steps gaining momentum before he leapt into the air. Drawing his swords, he sliced through the neck and landed in one go. He nudged the priest’s chest, causing the body to fall off the edge of the building while his head otherwise slid off to land on the white fabric of the aisle. “Sticks the landing. Not a hero landing, but killing priests is not usually associated with the archetype... What? What’s everyone screaming about?”

He turned around, where the priest’s head was still rolling. “What? You haven’t seen that in literally hundreds of bad horror movies and semi-descent action films? Wait.”

People were falling and ramming into the chairs as the fabric of the aisle was swept out from under them. Wade looked down, where the head rolled and was taken with the fabric over the side of the building…

“So…the priest’s robe had a train that was long enough to be the aisle? That’s some symbolic religious shit I just can’t wrap my sinful head around. Oh no.”

Some genius had put the confectionary table legs on the aisle and it was skidding toward him—

“Ooph!” he cried as it landed in his gut, doubling him over and off the roof they went, table, crème puffs, and all.

Wade sighed, “Usually it’s the bride that throws me out of a party—Oh!”

His body jerked to a stop and he blinked vacantly at the red face and large almond eyes staring back at him. “OH! YOU’RE YOU! You! I’ve wanted to—”

“Are you the guy who killed him?”

“Who? I mean, no,” Wade corrected as he examined the gloved hand splayed over his chest, holding him as if it were glued and Wade weighed nothing at all. “Is this the part where I swoon? Because I’m swooning.”

The sound of a sigh came from him as he looked up the side of the skyscraper and let Wade fall. “This is why they say ‘never meet your heroes’—hiuh!”

He landed and bobbed on a web shaped like a sack next to the priest’s body and a good number of paczkis stuck to the silver threads. “Touché, Spidey. Touché.”

Peter climbed over the rooftop ledge to witness the carnage that was the wedding reception. He found the wall of security guards protecting the bride and groom as they tried to get them inside. Webbing latched onto the guards, a swift yank threw them on the other side of the roof. Peter jumped over the tangle of chairs to grab the groom and hoist him on top of the elevator and stairway roof. Binding him to the structure, he said, “Mr. Roland, you’re wanted by a few terrorist groups as well as the New York Police Department. They’ll read you the Miranda Rights when they get here. Until then, congrats on your nuptials and condolences on the divorce.”

He jumped down to bind the security guards to prevent them from pursuing their paycheck as Wade emerged through the elevator licking paczki glaze off his gloved fingers. Pulling the mask back over this chin, he looked around and approached the shocked bride. “If it’s any consolation, I became single recently.”

She stared at him, afraid and confused. Peter tied his last web and started toward him. Wade’s head tilted. “Your suit’s tighter than mine. Do you experience chaffing at all?”

Peter punched him right in the face, leveling Wade to the ground. “Wow!” he moaned, lifting his dizzy head to see the webs gluing him to the roof. “Last person to hit me that hard had the excuse of adamantium bones. You know, usually I’d take the kinky hint, but somehow I think I’m actually in trouble here.”

“You decapitated a priest,” Peter finished, standing erect. “Last I checked, homicide was a federal crime.”

“Oh I’m not a citizen. I’m Canadian,” Wade defended lightly. “And I don’t think anyone will miss a pedophilic priest. Really, the stereotype is exhausting.”

Peter paused, long enough for Deadpool to introduce, “I’m Wade, otherwise known as Deadpool. You may have heard of—”

Peter stepped off the roof, falling out of sight. Wade’s head reclined once more. “Wow. He touched me.”


	2. Strawberry and Caramel

Peter swooped into his room through the window, striding directly to the shower. Sometimes it was easiest just to bathe as if his suit was a second skin and then ring it out before hanging it over the curtain rail. When he got out, his phone was ringing.

“Hey, Aunt May.”

“Peter? Peter, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, just tired. You know.”

“You’re tired a lot lately,” she said, deadpan. “Do you know there’s a difference between ‘tired’ and ‘unhappy’?”

“I gotta get to class,” he said, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he jumped into his cleanest pair of jeans.

“Don’t ignore me. When are you coming to visit me? I’m still not pleased with this arrangement.”

“You’re just bored,” he countered. “We talked about this. It’s safer.”

 _“Safe,”_ she snorted. “Safe while my boy rots in the city.”

Peter huffed, a small smile dawning on his lips. “I’m not rotting. You’re being dramatic.”

“Is that a smile I hear?” she brightened. “When are you coming to visit me?”

Peter quickly set the phone down to yank on a t-shirt and a crisp blazer. “How about this weekend? I can be there Friday night. We’ll make Saturday brunch.”

“Can you?” she challenged. “Friday nights are busy for you.”

“They will be when it’s warmer. It’s still cold here, though.”

“You’re telling me. There’s still snow on the ground outside. I thought it was supposed to be April.”

“I’ll see you Friday. I gotta go.”

“Will you finally tell me what happened?”

Peter froze. He had been reaching for his backpack but he slowly stood up and raked a hand through his wet hair. “We broke up. That’s all.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “All right. Stay safe. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, hanging up.

*******

Class was an anticlimactic lecture that released to a rainy afternoon. Peter stopped by the café on the corner since they actually had reasonably priced and tasty coffee, and he would need it before going to deliver his latest batch of photographs. Entering the café, the line was not too long before he returned the “Hi,” from the barista.

“Uh…just a cappuccino, please.”

“Really? Normally you get something more exotic,” she teased as she rang up the beverage.

“I’m low maintenance today,” he japed, but his smile did not reach his eyes.

He paid and dropped the change in the tip jar as she said, “Should be ready in a jiffy.” He set his backpack in the opposite chair of a table by the window and sat down, leaning his head on the glass as his the drops raced each other down.

“Peter Parker.”

He opened his eyes, slow to rise as he came to accept his beverage. “Tired?” the barista asked.

“Yeah.”

She paused a second and asked, “Too tired for a job?”

He looked up. “A job?”

She shrugged. “I’m the only one working today. All week, actually. Don’t get me wrong, I like the hours but my days off aren’t often enough.”

Peter blinked, considering it. “Yeah…yeah, I’d like the job. I’m going to be out of town this weekend though.”

“Yay! That’s fine! I can train you the rest of the week and then next week you can officially start! The manager’s here now, so this is good timing. I don’t think they’ll have a problem since you know the menu better than he probably does.”

And just like that, Peter had a new job. The barista, named Jessica, went ahead and taught him most of the functions of the elaborate coffee maker before he had to reach his deadline at the Daily Bugle. The ranting that usually came with it was more bearable with barista training to look forward to.

*******

“Then you just steam the milk and top it off,” Jessica chimed. She set the steel cup on the counter for him to fill up his own beverage, but the cup slipped and he caught it without looking. “Oh. Wow, good catch,” she said as he indifferently finished the drink.

“Hm? Oh, thanks. I’m clumsy too. I got used to catching my own mistakes.”

“We’re almost done for today,” she narrated as she put the drinks on the counter and called the patrons’ names. “Tomorrow, can you show up early and then come back late? So I can show you how we open and clean up for close.”

“No problem. I have a late morning class anyways,” he said as he followed her to the shelves of jarred coffee beans.

A red reflection moved over the glass the same moment the hairs on his nape stood up, feeling the rush of movement even through the front wall of the building. Watching the reflection, the red figure reappeared, and the bell clanged harshly as the door opened with haste.

“Can I get a tall black with loads of milk and strawberry syrup? Thanks a bunch.”

The door shut as he ran away.

“Huh?” Jessica breathed. “Why wouldn’t he just ask for a strawberry frap?”

Peter peered at her. “You’re not bothered that he was masked?”

She thought about it. “Well…with Spider-Man showing up every other day, I guess I’m less sensitive to it now—Oh, god!”

The bell clanged as Deadpool smashed a man wearing a denim jacket with a highlighter yellow stripe in his hair against the glass. The man fell and weathered a series of punches as well as a kick before he was dragged into the café and propped against the counter.

“Now you stay there like a good boy,” Wade ordered and then picked his pockets for a ragged pair of dollars and a lot of pennies. “You might wanna call the cops or whatever it is you do,” he said as he tried twice to count the coins and then just gently swept them into a small pile on the counter.

Jessica blinked in shock and pulled out her phone to do that. Peter was motionless as he stared at Deadpool. “Who is he?”

“Him?” Wade pointed down at the yellow stripe. By the sniffles, the man’s nose was broken. “He’s a pimp.”

“Why have you beaten up a pimp?” Peter interrogated.

“Because the best rent in town is in the—ahem—pink light district, shall we say. Mostly because the walls are paper and a supreme fire hazard, but that allows me to hear everything. Trust me, I don’t mind, lovemaking is music to my ears but abuse is not. Stay put,” he ordered, giving the pimp another kick when he tried to rise.

He leaned his elbows on the counter as Jessica put her phone away and hastily prepared his beverage. “You have the pleasure of meeting the new _Madame_ of the establishment.” He gave a flourishing salute. “Give me a week to take care of my girls, though, they’re a little malnourished.”

Jessica glanced over her shoulder. Peter frowned, “Pink light district? New York doesn’t have a pink light district.”

“Well,” Wade shrugged, “technically the lanterns are red, but I’m not one to judge decorating.”

“China town?” Peter baulked.

“Shhh!” Wade peered at the other patrons suspiciously. “Technically it’s illegal. Ladies—and some gents—gotta earn a living, you know. They can’t do it in jail or on the streets.”

Peter heard the lid snap onto the drink and grabbed it from Jessica. It sloshed in the cup when he set it down and slid the change into his palm. “Take it and go.”

“Wow, grumpy frumpy. Panties in a twist? That’s why I go without.”

“Take your drink, and go,” Peter repeated. “The police are one block over by now.”

“Fine, fine,” he held his hands up in defeat. Lifting the drink, he pulled on his mask to slip the straw underneath and was at the door when he turned around. “What is…” He looked at the cup to see the golden swirl on the plastic. “Salted caramel? Oh you’re good. Brava, darling. I’ll be back for this.”

“Don’t,” Peter barked.

Wade gazed at him, distinctly silent as he strolled out of the café.

*******

Peter crawled silently over the bricks of the cramped buildings. The development of China town had been more of a game of Tetris to the architects but it made his travel easy. His suit had not had enough time to dry but neither had the clouds; the gutters rattled around him as puddles glistened beneath him.

The district was easy enough to find, but not from any forced moans. Peter stopped as a familiar voice filled the alley he was in. The buildings were close enough for him to just reach over and change sides, where he peeked into the window. A number of women were seated in the living room, laughing at the provocative dance Deadpool was giving them. Peter looked between the women, some needing a root touch up to keep up the appearance of youth while others were clearly too young to be there. A couple of children sat on their mothers’ laps, giggling as their mothers clapped their hands together. One of the children had a black eye.

Peter climbed down and went to the convenience store around the corner for produce, red bean rolls, and some chocolate milk. The cashier looked like they were unsure whether they were seeing things after a fourteen-hour shift but Peter took his groceries and quietly left.

Returning to the apartment was a bit difficult with the sound of the rain hitting the plastic bags but thankfully the children had an early bedtime. Carefully sliding the window open, Peter placed each item on the table and then left the bags outside. Going to the fridge, which was sparse apart from the vodka, bread, and children’s fruit snacks, he carefully put the items inside.

Turning around, a little girl stood in the living room. “Oh—uh,” he whispered. “Are you hungry?”

She gaped at him for a minute and then nodded, her wiry curls sticking up from her chocolate scalp while her almond eyes blinked groggily. Peter quickly poured some water and broke off a bit of red bean roll for her. 

“Mm,” she hummed as she chewed.

“Have you started school yet?” Peter asked. She nodded. “Got a class you like?”

“Science is nice,” she murmured. “Our caterpillars just made their cocoons.”

“Biology, huh? I’m more of a physics and chemistry person myself.”

Her head tilted. “But you’re Spider-Man.”

“Ehh,” he shrugged. “Sometimes these things choose you. Work hard, okay? I’m sure your ma’s proud of you.”

“She is,” she giggled shyly. “Thanks, Spider-Man.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. I gotta go. Lock the window behind me, a’right?”

“Okay,” she chimed, and followed him to the window. He closed it as much as he could from the outside and she finished it, waving at him through the glass. Before he left he swooped down and picked up the bags for proper disposal.

*******

The next day Peter came in early just as requested and soon left for his class. He was able to actually complete homework in the time it took to wait for evening to come. When he walked into the café, however, he stopped in the middle of the floor and glared at the figure behind the counter stirring a tall cup of tea.

“It’s the milk, see. You’re steeping the tea more in milk than water and it gives it such a richness—I mean, caffeine’s good and all if you need a little extra to get your lovin’ going, but when you want to actually enjoy the taste, you ought to treat yourself. Am I right?”

“What are you doing here?” Peter interrupted, dropping his backpack on the counter.

“Peter, you’re just on time,” Jessica greeted.

“Yeah, _Peter,_ I was just teaching Jessica a new drink. You need to be careful about not boiling the milk, though.” He shuddered theatrically. “Completely changes the taste.”

“It curdles,” Peter reiterated. “The heat catalyzes a reaction that changes the molecules.”

“Oh man, you’re one of those smart types,” Wade scratched his head.

“And you’re not supposed to be back there. You’re a health hazard.”

Wade guffawed. “I’ve been called a lot of things but never an outright health hazard. That’s kind of mild actually.”

“He’s not wrong,” Jessica admitted. “Only employees are allowed back here.”

Wade held his hands up in defeat. “I’ll take my fine-health-hazard ass out of here, then.” But as soon as he was on the other side of the counter he lifted a hip to sit on it. “So I hear you start on Monday.”

Peter glared up at him as he tied his apron. “You’re not invited.”

“Good for me it’s a public space, huh?”

“You know if you spend so much time in one place the cops will arrest you at some point.”

Wade pressed his fingertips to his chest, aghast. “I am an upholding….person of society. It’s not my fault I’m the Mr. Clean among a bunch of shit lickers and cock garrotes.”

Peter frowned at him while Jessica dropped her phone. “I’ve been told I have a vast vocabulary,” Wade mentioned.

“Well you and your mouth need to leave. We’re closing,” Peter concluded.

“What? But you just got here,” Wade exclaimed. “You and my mouth have a long way to go.”

Jessica choked on her green tea. Peter glanced at her and then sighed, “Thanks, I guess, but I’m not interested.”

“That’s not a flat no, then?” Wade followed him on the other side of the counter as he went to clean out the espresso maker. “That’s not a ‘sorry I’m straight and will never experience the glory that is a night with you’?”

Peter stared at him and then said bluntly, “Only a night? You think lowly of yourself.”

Wade stacked his chin on his hands and elbows. “I’m not one to push myself after a failed attempt, but I promise I’m not a flop. If you _grasp_ my meaning. Do you get it? It’s like dick-joke-ception.”

“Yeah. I get it,” Peter curtailed. “You think you’re funny.”

“And you’re strangely not,” Wade remarked. “Are those eye bags sucking the funny out of you?”

“Currently, you are.”

“I’d be glad to suck something out of you but the humor isn’t it.”

Peter sighed loudly. “Are you going to become a habit?”

“I hope so,” Wade chimed.

“Well schedule it for the middle of the day. We’re closing.”

“So noon, Monday? It’s a date,” he concluded. He whistled a melody on his way out of the café.


	3. Friday

Peter flew through the air, equally following and leading the police sirens beneath him. The robbery would have been like any other, except it was a billionaire’s collection, and admittedly, Peter just wanted to see what the guy had.

As he landed on the penthouse terrace, he could hear the building’s security on the floor below as well as outside the front door, barring the burglars inside. “You know, if you were keen enough to get in, you might have put the same consideration into getting out.”

The men startled from where they sat on the buttery leather couches. Peter put his hands on his hips. “It really doesn’t help if you’re just waiting to be arrested.”

They pulled out semi-automatics, pointing them at him. Peter sighed, rubbing his neck. “Whatever.”

But before he could do his work the front door crashed open, Deadpool stumbling in and heaving breath. “Is this it? Is this the right place… Hahh!”

He doubled over, taking the time to breathe. “Shit…you move fast. Do you know how hard it is to check every crime in upper eastside to find you? I mean, I’m fast too and I dabble in parkour but… Give me a minute. Wait.”

He stood up straight, eyeing the guns turning toward him. “Are you pointing guns at him? Are you pointing your limp pellet peckers at—”

Orbs of webbing crashed into their heads, either distracting or knocking them out completely. Webbing yanked them against the wall decorated in artifacts stolen from other cultures, their gun wielding arms pinned to the wall.

“Yeah. Be glad it wasn’t me,” Wade said, flicking one of them in the eye. “I’m only gentle to those I like.”

He turned and saw Spider-Man already on the terrace, leaving. Stepping onto the copper railing, he leaned forward for gravity to take him—

“Wait. Wait. Wait! I wanna talk to you!” Wade exclaimed, catching his arm and pulling him up like dropped laundry. Peter rotated in his grip, stepping back onto the railing and down onto the terrace. “Wow…that’s some come-hither grace. I’m—”

“Wade. I remember,” Peter curtailed. “What do you want?”

But he was busy looking Spider-Man up and down. “I forgot how small you are. Small and…tight. Then again, it’s not often a fine piece of Canadian beef like myself graces this sweet earth.”

Peter stared at him bluntly. An awkward silence wandered between them. “Nothing?” Wade asked. “I thought Spider-Man was supposed to be funny.”

“Like how you’re supposed to be in prison?” Peter retorted. “I don’t know anyone dumb enough to use their real name.”

“Prison is a corrective institution, but fabulous doesn’t need correcting,” Wade remarked.

“Do you realize that makes you sound like a psychopath?”

“I’ve met psychopaths and I’m not one of them. I have a lot of feelings,” Wade declared. “I wouldn’t be your biggest fan otherwise!” Peter’s gaze lowered as his hand was grabbed and shaken vigorously. “And I care about your feelings. Your sweet, juicy feelings. Like how are you feeling about dinner? If dinner was a euphemism for fucking. Spicy like a good steak or smooth gelato, I’m up for anything. Those are more euphemisms. So where does the webbing come from? Your wrist? A gadget? I mean, you can’t be all spidey because then it would come out of your—” he asked, trying to separate the fabric of the glove and sleeve.

Peter yanked his hand back. “Could you _ask first?_ Jeez…”

“What am I doing?” Wade puzzled. “All I’m doing is asking.”

“You weren’t taught boundaries, were you?” Peter asked.

Wade laughed, “No, if my father didn’t pop my bubble with his rum flavored musk he had four limbs to do it. Occasionally a head-butt. The odd lamp.”

Peter was silent. “Oh.”

“Nah, I hit puberty early and he died early. Win win.”

“Did you kill him?” Peter challenged.

“Oddly enough, no. As much as I wanted to skewer him right through the rectum with our lightning rod and let the sky roast him, I had some respect for the guy. My mom liked him enough to make me and he made the best poutine I’ve ever had. Although cleaning them up as vomit made them lose their magic.”

Peter processed that but the police were finally entering the penthouse. Wade followed his line of sight. “Damn, fellas, you’re late. I could have jacked off twice with how long you took. Could you give us a few more minutes?”

He looked to Spider-Man for confirmation, did a double take, but he was already gone.

*******

Peter emerged from the shower and dried his hair with a towel as his other hand stuffed his homework, laptop, and all the chargers he would need into his bag. He knew Aunt May kept a cache of his clothes for his visits. Shrugging into his parka, beanie, and shoes, he checked for his wallet and headed out the door.

Across the street, in a pink hoodie and jeans, Wade sipped his macchiato. As he looked over the lid at the figure leaving, he hummed, “Well looky, looky, I found Spidey.”


	4. Midnight Snack

“Hot plate,” Peter announced as he came up behind his aunt, the dish piled with more waffles than they had any hope of finishing. She laughed, moving with the pot of coffee and mug she was filling out of his way. “Aw, are these your homemade preserves?” he exclaimed, lifting the mason jar for inspection.

“You know it is,” she claimed proudly. “Can’t have syrup-drenched bacon and waffles without boysenberry topping. 

“Sugar coma, let’s go,” Peter agreed as he sat down.

Aunt May laughed, “I don’t think you’ve had a sugar coma since you were fifteen.”

Peter’s mouth was already full of waffle, which he chewed as if it was his first meal since then. May laughed but scolded, “I may have helped you through your worst bodily functions but I’m still a lady. At least try and close your lips.”

“Mmmmsrry,” Peter mumbled, swallowing thickly. 

She sipped her coffee first, content to watch him eat. “So what are we doing today? Will you take your old aunt for a date through this boring town?”

Cheeks full, he frowned at her. “It’s not boring, it’s New Jersey. You can still see the Manhattan skyline from the park. You have a house with a yard. There are maple trees outside. It actually smells nice here.”

“And no nephew to fill the air with his complaints,” she returned, her jaw resting in her hand. “I miss your noise.”

“Adopt a dog, maybe,” he remarked.

“Excuse you!” she exclaimed, slapping the bacon out of his hand. “How dare you think you’re replaceable with a dog!”

But he only shrugged. “A dog’s probably cleaner.”

“Yeah,” she laughed deep in her throat, “certainly cleaner, and I’d still choose you. Seriously, what are we doing? Any movies you wanna see?”

“I’d like to see the panther one,” Peter perked up.

*******

Peter liked staying with his aunt. It was quiet here, but with quiet came restlessness. The house he had managed to get for her was relatively new, so it was sturdy around him whereas their place in the city had been full of colonial groans and the voice of New York always distantly around them.

Peter stared up at the ceiling of his spartan room. May had done her best furnishing it with things he would like, but she still left room for his own customization. However since he lived a minimal lifestyle in his own apartment, there was not much to transfer here.

His head tilted, his ears picking up movement downstairs. Despite the new house, he could hear everything, could feel the tiniest bow of the walls from a footstep downstairs. Standing from the bed, he made a point to let his steps land a bit heavily so he did not startle May in the kitchen.

“Your nose knows,” she hummed, as popcorn pelted the lid of the pot on the stove.

“Why didn’t you get any at the theater?” he asked as he reached for the cabinet with bowls.

“Because mine’s better,” she smirked. “How do you want your midnight snack? Sweet or savory?”

“Salt and pepper with some garlic powder,” he requested.

“Comin’ right up,” she announced, moving the pot off the heat. Once the kernels settled down, they rained spices over the fragrant corn and dumped the contents into their largest bowl—

A slight rhythm was knocked on the kitchen door. Peter took the heavy pot from her so she could answer it while he did the washing. He did not turn the water on to better hear, “Hi, I’m sorry. I saw the light on here so I didn’t use the front door. I’m actually a bit lost and my phone’s right on one percent battery. I’m not asking to come in, I’d just like to borrow a phone for a quick call.”

Peter passed behind his aunt with the bowl as if he was moving toward the living room. He met the eyes of the stranger in a startlingly hot pink hoodie. The hood was over his head. Peter knew his aunt was unable to see him clearly in the darkness, but the man’s rough voice made sense with the rougher texture on his face. Peter could only imagine what sort of accident or cigarette made that effect. The stranger’s hands hung limp and empty by his sides, nonthreatening.

“Here,” Peter said, turning to unplug his phone from the charger on the counter. “Mine’s ready. Just slip it through the cat door when you’re done.”

“Do you have a cat?” he asked.

“No, but they’re cleaner than dogs,” Peter looked to his aunt, who rolled her amber eyes.

“I’m not getting a cat!” She took the popcorn and went to the living room with Peter behind her. She unloaded a game of Scrabble onto the coffee table while _Game of Thrones_ reruns played quietly in the background. It was some moments until a soft clatter was heard, and Peter rose to retrieve his phone. He was halfway back to the couch when he opened the phone to read: 

_Your mom is nice. Come outside, Spidey._ It was signed with a rose emoji.

Peter’s heart sank and hardened to stone. “May, have you taken the trash out?”

“Not yet. Thanks, hun,” she chimed around the crunch of popcorn. “By the way, I’m winning by seven points.”

“Don’t cheat while I’m outside,” he scolded, quickly shutting the door behind him. The man was leaning with his arm on the mailbox. “What do you want?”

“Don’t be mad, I just came by to say hi,” answered a very different voice. Peter’s reflexes moved before he could register something being thrown in his direction: he caught a red mask…but the material was thicker than his own.

Peter’s features went from stoic anger to annoyed confusion as his gaze lifted back up at the tall figure in the pink hoodie. “Wade?”

“Bingo!” he chimed without turning around. “I gotta say, I was kind of expecting Tom or Andrew; I was hoping for an English accent.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. May, you said? She seems nice. The popcorn smelled good. Smokin’ hot for a mom, no offense to moms.”

“She’s my aunt,” Peter corrected. “If you’re going to start _visiting—”_

“I’m not! Jeez,” Wade complained with a scratch to his head. “I get it. I don’t blame you for being protective. My curiosity got the better of me. It usually does.”

“How did you find me?”

“Well you’re not Batman, so your voice is recognizable. Really, all the clues are there if you’re paying attention. You’ve got the eyes. Like you can’t remember what sleep is, and the way you don’t flinch at stuff. I got to ask, though: how old are you?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Even I have standards. I can’t be flirting with a twelve year old.”

“I do not look twelve,” Peter bristled.

“Fine, fine, a solid seventeen.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Really?” Wade’s head turned, but only so the tip of his nose was visible. “Huh. Good genes. I used to have good genes.”

“Your genes don’t change,” Peter scoffed.

“Yeah, okay, smarty. You wouldn’t believe that if you saw what’s under this collector’s edition Hello Kitty apparel.”

Peter blinked, realizing Wade did not know how good his eyes were. Stepping forward, he held out the mask far enough for Wade to notice and take it back. “You could’ve just shown up in your suit.”

“What, you don’t like my hoodie?”

A huff of something like mirth escaped him. “It’s fine, but a hooded figure keeping to the shadows at almost one a.m. is suspicious.”

Wade tipped his head to that. “Fair enough. I wanted to thank you, though. Alex is smitten with you.”

“Alex?”

“Little tike with a black eye.”

“Oh,” Peter remembered from the brothel apartment. “Guess I wasn’t all that quiet.”

“You were, but kids squeal when they’re excited, you know. I didn’t mean for you to find the place. That was good of you to bring food for them.”

Peter shrugged, “I’m not just some lackey for the police. They’d actually love me out of their business.”

“I know,” Wade said, his voice warm. “You actually give a fuck. That’s why I’m a fan. I used to think you didn’t walk around with a pine cone up your ass like Wolverine, but I have to admit, I’m curious why I was wrong.”

Peter frowned at the name and then sputtered, “Wolv—Like, _that_ Wolverine? You know Professor X’s whole crew?”

“The prep school pricks? Ehh,” Wade’s head wobbled. “I’ll keep my plebeian ass out of their business.”

Peter could not help the snort in the back of his throat, but then lurched backward as he came face to face with Wade suddenly wearing his mask. “Did you just laugh? Do it again!”

“Dude, you’re too close—”

“Could you smile, at least?”

“Could you pretend you know some freaking boundaries, please?” Peter retorted, and then fell silent as his aunt called out of the living room window, “Peter? Did the trashcan eat you?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll be back in in a second.”

“Okay, don’t get sick out there.”

As the window closed, Wade murmured, “There isn’t anybody else home, is there?”

Peter eyed him. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking a sexy woman like that, who can make a mean bowl of popcorn wouldn’t be single. Is there a man of the house?”

“Yeah. Me.”

He could only assume it was a glare Wade was sending him. “Ohohoho—you know what I mean, smarty.”

“I hope you know I’ll dump you in a cell if you hit on my aunt.”

“You’re really not that smart. I’m here to hit on you, bug brain.”

“Why?” Peter uttered bluntly.

“Why? What d’you mean, why? You’re smoking hot and kick ass. Should I do this over? Should I show up in the morning with a boom box?”

Peter’s brows reached for his hairline. “Please don’t.”

“No promises. When I swoon, I rock the whole neighborhood off its feet.”

“Wade,” Peter huffed again, _“please don’t._ It’s bad enough you found my aunt so easily…”

Wade’s hand had touched the corner of his mouth, but it slowly lowered into his hoodie pouch. “She’s safe from me. Huh. It felt strange saying that.”

“Wade—uh,” Peter’s expression returned to its stoic yet…sad expression. “I’m flattered, but…there isn’t—you’re wasting your time on me.”

Wade puzzled him by merely shrugging. “Time is relative.”

Peter stared at him bluntly. “Okay, I know what that means, but do you?”

“Yes, I know what it means,” Wade sassed, “but that’s beside the point. I’ve got nothing but time, and I’ll decide how I spend it. I should warn you: I put my number in your phone. Don’t delete it because I already sent a text to myself.”


	5. Cookies

Peter opened the café on Monday, and he could not say he was surprised when he went into the storage room for cups and returned to find a small platter of money on the counter with a note:

_That strawberry thing at noon please <333 (it’s an ice cream cone and hearts…get it?)_

Peter could only stare incredulously out the windows before placing the pile where Jessica would see it. When Wade arrived for his beverage, however, he looked around before facing Jessica, “Where is he?”

“Peter? He’s got class.”

“Really? Smarty pants goes to class?”

She giggled. “He said you’d show up. Hang on, I’ll make your drink fresh.”

“Thanks,” Wade chimed as he hopped onto the counter, holding his crossed knees. “So do you like him?”

She looked like a headlight was on her as she swirled syrup in his cup. “Do I like Peter? Uh…I mean—”

“You can be honest,” Wade waved his hand to get this going. “I need to know what I’m up against.”

She blinked and relaxed. “You like him? I’m not competition, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good! Good, I can’t kill anybody until we’re officially canoodling. He wouldn’t like that—”

“What?” she blanched.

“Nothing. So why’s he single?” he leaned back to plant his palms on the counter. “A tight, round ass like that? You don’t see any girlies or closeted men following him into the café?”

Some mirth returned to her expression. “I don’t know. We don’t talk about that sort of stuff. We…don’t really talk about anything, really. Peter’s kind of quiet.”

Wade was statuesque. “Peter. Quiet?”

Jessica shrugged as she poured the rest of the contents into his cup. “Yeah. I mean, you just gotta be the one to start the conversation. He talks easy enough. Do you want one of our cookies? They’re still warm.”

Wade took his beverage and was on his way to refusing when he eyed the pile of chocolate chip decadence under the display glass. “Yes. I’ll take all of them.”

*******

Peter swung just high enough so landing on the roof ledge was more like a floating step onto it. His phone had been going off like crazy over the last twenty or so blocks and was ringing wildly as he fished it out of his backpack. The display showed Wade’s name with pink hearts on either side of it.

Sighing loudly, he held it to his ear. “What do you want, Wade?”

“IS NOW A GOOD TIME FOR A DATE?”

Peter jerked the phone back. “What?”

“I HAVE COOKIES. WOULD YOU EAT THEM WITH ME?”

“Why are you yelling?” he complained.

“BECAUSE THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I COULD CATCH UP WITH YOU—PLEASE CATCH ME!”

Peter’s gaze jerked up as the voice was above him as well as in his ear. Springing out of the way, webbing darted over the rooftop between the towering skyscrapers around them. Wade landed with a deep bounce and a crinkle of something made of paper. He took a long minute to catch his breath. “Woooooah.”

“You’re insane.”

Dazed, Wade lifted his head to see Spider-Man walking with more balance than a tightrope acrobat toward him. “You’re so hot,” he said dreamily.

“I’m serious!” Peter erupted. He looked up from an expensive balcony Wade must have jumped from.

“Don’t worry,” Wade breathed, following his gaze. “I only broke in to use the balcony, and no one’s living there anyways.”

The way Peter’s head jerked back to him, Wade knew a glare was coming through that mask. “I’m _working, Wade._ You can’t follow me around the city because you’re _bored.”_

“I’m not bored. I’m asking you on a date. And you’re not working. I know this is the route you take back to your place. You’ve already busted three small robberies. Your work is done, Spidey. Have some cookies with me.”

Peter’s weight shifted. “You talk to Stark?”

“Stark? Oh, Mr. Facial Hair? No, there can only be one smart ass in the room at one time. We’d break the internet—WAIT, so your patron is Stark? He knows how to make a nice suit, I’ll give him that.”

“Stop staring at my legs and answer the question,” Peter snapped. “I’m not so careless that anyone can find where I live. Especially…especially my family.”

“I’m not just anyone, Spidey,” Wade said in what he surely thought was a soothing voice. “It was my job—still is—to find people. Normally the end result isn’t as nice as this…”

He held up a crumpled bag Peter recognized from his café. “Come on. I’m sure they’re all broken but chocolate is chocolate in any shape. A treat after a hero’s hard day at work.”

Only silence came from Peter. So much so that Wade’s confidence faltered. “Please? Come on, I actually paid for these. Jessica can vouch for me.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped with a sigh of defeat. He looked around them, at the sheer glass windows where any number of eyes could be watching. “We can’t eat here. Meet me on top of this building.”

He texted a brief address to him, and before Wade could pull his phone out, Peter was gone. The location was easy enough to find, though, and Wade strolled along the scaffolding toward where Peter sat with his legs dangling, mask off. His dark hair was an absolute wreck, and Wade loved it.

“Finally, some romance out of you,” Wade congratulated as he landed next to him. The view was out over the water, orange and gold reflecting as the sun set. “Oh, some of these are still intact,” he remarked as he peered into the bag.

Peter barely looked at him. He mindlessly accepted the offering while his gaze was far away. He startled a little when Wade touched his cheek. “Where you been?” Wade asked softly.

“Nowhere,” he whispered, taking a bite of dessert. Something did seem to light up behind his eyes when he tasted it, and his next bite was more consciously done.

“You look like Wolverine.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It would be, except he’s over a hundred years old.”

“Oh.”

“I’m saying you look like you’ve been through enough. I know what post traumatic stress looks like. We’ve all got it, but you’re only twenty-four.”

“How old are you?” Peter returned.

“Oh. I’m ageless,” Wade shrugged aside.

“That’s something an old man would say,” Peter returned.

“Do I sound like an old man?” Wade returned, and then rolled onto all fours to display his ass. “Is this the body of an old man?”

 _“Stop,”_ Peter moaned in complaint, but the ghost of a smile was there. Wade settled once more beside him and brushed crumbs off Peter’s mouth.

“So why are you single?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he answered quietly.

“I think it does. Were you horrendously rejected by the captain of the cheerleading squad?”

“No,” Peter huffed with mirth again.

“Did you accidentally blow off her face in a chemistry project?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the deal?” Wade pushed. “Were you in love with two people and the other walked in on you butterflying the other one?”

“What about you?” Peter returned. “You said you were recently single.”

 _“Oh,”_ Wade crooned. “My lady love. Yeah…you can only nearly die so many times before you decide to break up with the person who gets you into trouble. Not that I blame her. It’s a fucking miracle she didn’t run for the hills when I came back to her, let alone stayed engaged to me for so long.”

Peter looked at him. “Engaged?”

“Well, sure,” Wade perked up. “That’s what you do right? Put a ring on it when it’s love. That was before…before the suit, shall we say. It’s a shitty paradox: you wear the suit for anonymity but it just attracts folks who want to kill anyone around you.”

Peter had set his foot on the scaffolding and now set his chin on his knee. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

Wade gently nudged him. “Is that what happened with you?”

Peter blinked slowly…exhaustedly. Wade half expected him to avoid answering again but then, “Yeah…the second was smarter.”

“Second?”

“When it comes to loves of our lives, do we get two? Maybe I’ve already wasted my chances.”

Wade surprised him with, “I don’t believe in soul mates.” Peter looked at him. “I think as long as you’re willing to put in the effort, and they’re meeting you halfway, you can love anybody. And if you manage to make it to your deathbed fucking only that person, well, that’s great, I guess. But if not, you’re cock blocking yourself by writing yourself off as undeserving of anything. So if the second one got spooked and ran off…what happened with the first?”

Wade watched those glassy eyes sink deeper in their already dark sockets. “She died. I killed her.”

“Hold on,” Wade held up a hand. “There’s a difference between someone else killing her in the middle of a fight with you and you actually killing her. Which one was it?”

“Neither,” Peter said reluctantly. His face turned away. “She was falling. I tried to catch her but…”

“Look, you’re good, but you’re not so good as to beat gravity every time—”

“I did beat it,” Peter hushed. “I study physics, and I know human anatomy. I should have known…I should have known her neck would break.”

“Oh,” Wade understood.

“So I don’t have a shining track record with relationships,” he warned.

“Ehh,” Wade shrugged. “I’m not worried.”

Peter frowned at him. “Why not? You should be.”

“I don’t mean to brag, but if your record is spotty, mine is dripping. Mostly because they decide to try and kill me and get caught in the cross fire of _other_ people trying to kill me…basically if you’re worried about me dying, you can brush that off your plate.”

Peter’s eyes softened. “You have an unusual nonchalance about all this.”

“Hey, I never said I was a hero. You’re the ones with all that morality weighing you down. I’m not saying it’s always easy, but once you goodwill some stuff, it’s a load off.”

“Mm,” was all Peter replied, once again using his knee for a pillow.

“You know,” Wade gently slid himself closer, “I’m still waiting for a better refusal.”

Peter’s head lifted and his eyes briefly analyzed their closer positions. “What?”

 _“‘My webs only shoot straight,’”_ Wade lowered his voice in imitation, “is what I keep waiting for, but you distinctly _haven’t_ refused me for being straight. Can I take that to mean you’re flexible?”

Peter shrugged. “I’ve only dated women but I’m not repulsed by men. I think I was too busy with…other things to really give it thought growing up.”

“Busy growing six other legs?” Wade guessed.

“No, my parents died.”

“That’s the first qualification to being a hero, apparently.”

“Then my uncle was shot.”

“Jesus shit, man. No wonder your suit’s so colorful. You need some fucking sunlight in your life. Here, have another cookie.”

Wade shoved the bag onto his lap. A fleeting smile ghosted across Peter’s mouth. “You haven’t had any yet.”

“I know where you work. I’ll get more. So, I could be your first male paramour,” he said pleasantly, swaying a little from side to side so he nudged Peter again.

“Not really,” Peter corrected. “I’m not in a mental place for a relationship.”

“What about a physical one?” Wade countered. He fully expected a jaded glare from Peter but instead he observed another tired sigh as Peter shook his head.

“I don’t do casual stuff.”

“Everyone’s casual sometimes,” Wade declared, “but I won’t refuse if the requirement is a long-term relationship. More for me savor. What’s the real reason?”

Peter’s annoyance was reemerging as he rolled his eyes and looked elsewhere. “I’m good in a fight but not much else.”

“No, that can’t be right,” Wade refused to believe. “With your flexibility, those lips, and that ass: no way. Plus—and don’t get me wrong, I’m a very considerate lover—I can be dominant in bed. You wouldn’t even have to do anything—”

“That’s good, because you won’t get much of anything,” Peter snapped quietly, more to himself.

Wade’s knee touched his. “Are you…you saying you can’t rise to the occasion?”

“I can’t claim to have ever been _good_ at amorous activities,” Peter admitted, “but…I can barely sleep. Sex isn’t an option. Sorry.”

Wade gave that a second of thought. “That’s what you meant by wasting my time? Give me some credit; if nothing else, I’m persistent.”

“I know,” Peter said pointedly.

“And this is only our first date. A lot can still happen.”

The bag rustled as Peter closed it and stood. “I admire your optimism but I’d feel better if you moved on.”

Wade stood and grasped his forearm before he could drop out of sight again. “If there’s one thing we need to agree won’t happen, it’s lying. I’ll choose a nasty truth over a clean lie any day, and I know loneliness when I see it, Peter.”

“I’m just trying to save us—”

“Some time?” Wade finished. “I’m done with that argument.”

Peter’s lips were parted in a stoic expression, but his features melted into something too much like anguish. “You want honesty…but you can’t take your mask off to eat cookies with me.”

Either Wade’s surprise or Peter’s ability allowed him to slip his hand free, and he let gravity take him.


	6. Narrating

Peter maneuvered through the corridors of his campus with ease despite rubbing sleep—or the lack there of—from his eyes. The orbs felt bruised but he was cognitive enough; he had the leftover cookies in his bag if he needed sugar to get by. It helped that the corridors were more like moving from room to room; up the stairs to a lounge-study area that shared a glass wall with the computer lab.

Letting his bag fall onto the wheels of his rolling chair, Peter set his notebook and water bottle on the table as he entered his school id and password while he slurped away. His other classmates filled the seats around him, their class scheduled to occupy the lab for crash courses of various programs—

Something crashed into the glass wall, turning heads including Peter’s. At this point it was not much of a surprise but still a gut-dropping annoyance to see the red and black suit on his campus. Wade shook his head from having run into the wall, but those white screens over his eyes widened as he found what—or who—he was looking for.

“Oo!” he cooed briefly before his attention was otherwise distracted by campus security chasing him.

Peter glanced around him at the murmurs of laughter and nervousness. Some of the students were ready to talk about the disturbance:

“Who was that—?”

“Is that a joke? Or some fundraiser scheme?”

“You don’t recognize him? Everyone’s taking about what happened at the—”

“I’d rather there wasn’t a masked maniac on campus, thanks.”

Peter plugged in his ear buds, blocking out their noise in favor of doing his assignments.

Class was almost over when his phone lit up silently. He recognized immediately the message from Stark’s a.i. since the screen changed from the iphone image of him and his aunt to a far more advanced layout. The music in his ears was replaced by his suit’s a.i. reading the message.

_“It seems a threat has been tracked to Long Island. Incredibly high risk.”_

Peter frowned over the pieces of information he swiped through. “Not high enough for the Avengers to deal with.”

_“Oh? But aren’t you an Avenger? Is this a bad time? It is unlikely you have a school project I have not already scheduled—”_

“I mean the whole—never mind,” he murmured, rising as his computer logged out.

_“How strange. You know, Peter, I am equipped with psychoanalysis and corresponding therapy methods, if you’d like to talk. It’s been a while since you talked to me.”_

“Thanks, Karen, but there’s a confidentiality part to therapy and I’m not interested in Stark or Happy pretending to care about the reports."

 _“I think they would care very much,”_ Karen disagreed pleasantly. _“You’ve come a long way from being an overeager spider. That may be attributed to your less than sixty minutes of REM sleep this week.”_

“I can go without the reminder, Karen,” Peter curtailed as he fixed the twisted strap of his backpack. “Just keep tracking the dudes— _hiuh!”_

His bag yanked him sideways and suddenly darkness closed around him while something large and solid sandwiched him against the cinderblock wall.

“Whew, your campus security is not to be underestimated—”

 _“Wade!”_ Peter growled.

“Hang on, a mop is rubbing me the wrong way. Or the right way, depending on how you look at it."

Peter was squished even flatter against the wall as Wade adjusted. He had been with various Avengers but he had never been squished in a maintenance closet with someone so large. Wade only had the advantage of being lean as well as tall, but the swords on his back negated this. Peter could only briefly recognize that Wade was without his firearms today, because he seemed intent on smearing Peter across the wall.

Sucking in air, Peter’s hands found purchase and shoved Wade against the opposite wall…which proved perhaps two feet away. Peter huffed raggedly, “It’s been a long time since I was stuffed inside of a locker but you’ve managed to find the smallest closet in all of Manhattan.”

“I’m sure there are apartments smaller than this,” Wade remarked and cleared his throat. “Hi, honey, how are you?"

Peter glared up at him but could not reply as Karen said, _“Wade Wilson. Current alias: Deadpool. Place of origin: Canada. Currently unaffiliated but in connection with known persons, both classified and disclosed. Originally civilian hit man—”_

“Not now!” Peter hissed, but he felt one of his ear buds leave his ear.

“Who’s this?” Wade chimed, holding the piece to his covered ear. “You got your own super computer keeping you company?”

_“My name is Karen.”_

“Karen! That’s nice. That’s a nice name for your voice.”

_“Thank you, Wade. Peter named me.”_

Peter interrupted, “Could you two _not?_ I’d like to leave, please!”

Wade was not listening as Peter felt an arm around his waist and Wade’s chest expanded. “Mmm. You smell nice.”

 _“Maui Moisture Aragn Oil Conditioner,”_ Karen provided.

“You wouldn’t expect to miss hair, but I do,” Wade conversed, breathing Peter in.

“You’re blocking the door,” Peter complained, deadpan.

“Come on, take a load off,” Wade whined. “How was class? Have you taken your vitamins? I wanna talk to my spider.”

“I’m not your—”

 _“Would you like me to text an alert to the nearest campus personnel to open the closet?”_ Karen offered.

“No, no, now let’s not be hasty,” Wade exclaimed. “Karen, dear, how’s life in the cyber void?”

_“You’re very polite, Wade, but I answer Peter’s requests.”_

“No, Karen. I have work,” Peter replied as he listened to the commotion or lack there of in the corridor. The wave of students leaving class was gone. Peter’s arm went around Wade as he declared, “I’d rather not start a habit of being late.”

Wade’s hold tightened, his thigh finding Peter’s leg while Peter otherwise found the doorknob and twisted. Wade’s arm around his waist tightened. “Hang on. You got plans later?”

“You need to stay in here,” Peter answered instead. “People have already seen you and Spider-Man together. You can’t be seen with Peter Parker.”

Wade gasped, “You’re right! I’m an inconsiderate boyfriend and we haven’t even started!”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Peter groaned, trying to maneuver around him. The result was Peter’s face being squished against the black shoulder of Wade’s suit while he was hugged tightly.

“You. Me. A bottle of bubbly and a sack of popcorn. Tonight?"

“Um."

“I’m not letting go until you say yes.”

“I could break your spine and then the door down,” Peter reminded.

“Aw, it’s so cute when you make threats,” Wade nuzzled his hair. “My little hero.”

“I’m not actually that short,” Peter bristled. “And I’ve got a job tonight.”

“Oo! Can I come?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll come anyways.”

“Wade—”

“We’ll leave around seven-thirty? Or is this a later gig? Text me?”

“You’re not coming!” Peter retorted, finally using his strength to rotate their positions in the closet for him to swing the door open. He did not realize he startled a teacher until he slammed the door shut and revealed the frightened eyes behind askew glasses. “Oh. Um. Hi, Professor Higgins.”

He strode quickly away and down the stairs before she could recover and ask why he had burst from a closet. He was sure the cookies in his bag were thoroughly wrecked as he pulled his bag around for a cap to guard against the sunlight stabbing through growing storm clouds.

 _“Would you like me to classify Wade Wilson as a problem?”_ Karen asked.

Peter sighed. “He’s definitely a problem but not that sort of problem yet.”

_“I’ve noticed his name in your contact list is decorated with the pink heart emojis.”_

“He put those there,” Peter defended.

_“Juxtaposed with your escalated heart rate in the closet, should I organize him with your romantic interests—”_

“No!”

_“Are you sure? Spiked heart rate is customary during romantic actions like feeling an arm around your waist or more primal instincts like the scent of a potential sexual partner—”_

“Karen, stop narrating!” Peter screeched hoarsely.


	7. Blackout

Peter looked up as Jessica emerged from the backroom in her coat and scarf. “Okay,” she huffed from the effort of doing her part of the closing and redressing for the dregs of winter. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m not abandoning you for your first closing, am I?”

“You mean you’re leaving after you already organized the storage room, counters, and cleaned the machines? You’ve left me the floor to mop,” he reassured.

“Yeah, what if the rookie slips and falls on his head?” she cornered.

“I’m clumsy but I think I can handle it. I’ll send an s.o.s. text if I’m wrong.”

“See that you do,” she laughed, already halfway out the door. “See ya, Peter!”

He waved at her through the glass and followed to lock the doors. The trash was already on the curb with the restaurant next door’s dump, so he turned half the lights off and grabbed the mob. Only the chairs remained on top of their tables as darkness fell over the interior completely.

He felt the cold briefly before his suit acclimatized and warmth spread from his core across his limbs. Flying through New York was simultaneously his favorite and least favorite thing to do at night. The brilliant purr of the city beneath him was like soaring through a fireworks show in slow motion, however it set his senses ablaze. He felt alive yet vulnerable; a raw, open nerve.

 _“Harlem,”_ Karen guided in his ear. He landed on a rooftop, running along the edge before swan diving back into the city.

“Give me the debrief. What am I looking for?”

 _“The terrorist group has been identified as the Pentacle, due to the symbol on their attire. The number of members is still unknown but they are a rather small group for the amount of damage they have accomplished.”_

“Pentacle? Like satan star, or _Da Vinci Code_?”

 _“A woman has been seen among them. My readings of their body language around her suggests respect rather than dominance. It is highly plausible she is their leader._ Da Vinci Code.”

“That’s refreshing,” Peter commended.

 _“I agree, however her motiv is questionable,”_ Karen remarked.

“Why are they labeled ‘terrorist’?” Peter asked as he swung around a building into the alleyway and ran up a fire escape.

 _“Their methods are not the conventional bombs and explosions,”_ Karen relayed. _“They seem to…manipulate people.”_

“Like computer parasites in their brains? Stark hasn’t lost one of his gadgets, has he?”

 _“Mr. Stark has yet to invent something so invasive,”_ Karen scolded mildly. _“You’ve met enough genii on the wrong side of morality.”_

“Tony’s had his tech stolen before, is all I’m saying,” Peter defended as he stopped to listen to the neighborhood around him. “Where to now?”

_“North. Fort Tryon Park. The security of the Cloisters has suspiciously cut out without alarm.”_

Peter took off once again. “Thieves? Why would they want to break into a museum? How much gold leaf can you get from a triptych?”

 _“Well done, Peter! It’s nice to know you still listen in art history despite sleeping through it.”_ Karen commended.

“I’m not sleeping if I’m paying attention,” Peter retorted as he swung down and jogged across the avenue of the park. “Give me those thermal eyes.”

His vision immediately changed to display the temperatures around him. Blues, greens, and yellows surrounded him as he leapt up the tiers of earth on which the Cloisters stood like an acropolis, until he saw the first red burst. Karen automatically switched back to his normal vision as he crept in the darkness. The guardsman only briefly reacted when Peter touched him, but an electric current flowed through his suit, shocking him into slumber. Peter gently set him on the grass, observing the star embossed on the breast of his leather jacket.

On one side of his vision, he saw Karen’s process of scanning his face and scrolling through a database of known persons while on the other side she scanned the monastery for him. It was oddly well lit for the middle of the night; every bulb pulsing with electricity instead of just the security lights. Red blemishes appeared and he counted off the enemies. “Less than twenty? They’re sure of themselves.”

 _“They take control of people,”_ she warned, _“and we have yet to know how. Perhaps observation would be best for now so we can learn more.”_

“You sound worried,” he whispered as he kept to what few shadows remained. He ignored the two men guarding the entrance in favor of silently climbing up the surrounding wall.

_“I was created to take care of you and assist you in all things. This may sound strange coming from an abstract being, but it would…sadden me, if something were to happen to you on my watch.”_

“I’m not worried,” Peter chimed. “You can electrocute anybody who tries to touch me; you can even incapacitate me if I get mind controlled. I think you’re doing great.”

 _“Thank you, Peter,”_ she said warmly, sounding relieved. _“The woman is in the Herb Garden.”_

The garden overlooked a view of the river below, allowing Peter to climb all the way up the façade and peek into the garden. “She’s…gardening.”

He scrutinized the woman clipping lemons from the potted tree along the wall…and then dropping them into the large marble block in the center of the garden: an ornately carved top of a well from another era. Peter watched as she went around harvesting various herbs and then snapped a spear from an aloe plant.

“Well, you’ve got me. I have no idea what’s happening,” Peter whispered.

_“The pentagram is a prominent symbol in the Wicca religion and witchcraft practice; both concentrate on nature and herb metaphysical properties. She seems to be in the middle of a ritual of some sort.”_

“Uh…” Peter’s scientific mind rebelled like a similarly charged magnet.

 _“You’ve seen stranger things,”_ Karen reminded. _“A doctrine of Wicca is to ‘harm none.’ So it is more plausible she is a witch, as they have more moral freedom. Do not let the label sway you from the danger, inexplicable as it may be.”_

Peter’s fingertips slipped slightly on the stone as he blinked for focus. “So when should I jump in? Because right now it just looks like she’s collecting kitchen ingredients. Who is there to take over?”

“You, of course.”

Peter froze, and then peeked back up to see the woman leaning over the stone to gaze down at him. She was about aunt May's age, her hair dark and thick. She raised her chin in gesture, “Come on up.”

“I’ll hang back, it’s cool,” he refused.

“Suit yourself. You could have used the entrance, though. Anyone causing mischief in New York knows to expect you to come ‘round. My gentlemen would have greeted you well.”

“Sorry, I've bad experience with henchmen,” Peter conversed as she lowered to smell a blossom. She had an accent but it was subtle and he could not place it.

“Understandable. I’ll thank you for not attacking us outright.”

“Uh,” he set his forearms on the stone conversationally, “you’re not in the clear just because you’re being a tourist. I mean…I guess this could still be breaking and entering, but you’re wanted for more sketchy things…”

She smirked at him. “You sound young. Should I take it as an insult that someone so young has come to apprehend me?”

“That depends, how much mayhem are you planning…with lemons?” Peter could not help but add.

“Oh…loads,” she smiled again. “But not unfairly. I won’t pick a fight with a tired young man.”

“Tired?” he remarked, but his suit bloomed with heat when he began to rise.

 _“Do not enter the garden,”_ Karen warned. _"She is goading you."_

“Yes. I can feel your fatigue,” the witch explained.

“You’re an empath or something?” he japed.

“Yes,” she said without turning around, kneeling over more plants. “And more. You’re…buzzing with electricity.” Her voice changed with distaste. “But you also feel like this garden. Strong and full of possibility.”

“Uh. Thanks.”

“You would be better without that unnatural costume. It restricts your natural energy.”

Peter sighed. “Too many people want me naked. I think it enhances me, actually, and that's a lot coming from you? Is there a light that _isn't_ on here—”

He paused, because his arms were stuck to the wall. Planting his hands, he pushed against the stone but this only served to stick him further. If he pulled any more and he would tear the wall apart. Her eyes were on him. "Insects are drawn to bright lights."

“What is this?”

“My circle,” she said. “There is ancient poetry to us meeting. My name is Athena, and I’ve caught an arachnid.”

“A _hem_ ,” a throat cleared behind her. Peter’s eyes widened at Wade leaning against one of the cloisters. “When it comes to naked and natural with spiders, I've already called dibs on that one. Wait a minute…”

Peter had a moment to notice how the witch’s guardsmen were knocked out in various positions around the cloisters while Wade looked at his phone and then back up at her. “I’ve got an appointment with you! I’ve got paperwork for you to sign: a death certificate specifically. Wow, to think I almost didn't take this job because I'm still unsure what the rules are with female super villains. Do I hit you or not? But since you've made the first move, I think it's a fair playing field. First you catch my not-yet-boyfriend-because-he's-stubborn, and then you suggest other nonconsensual things. How convenient, I can be on a date and knock out a mad scientist at the same time—Spidey, schnookums, are you gonna be mad if I kill her?”

He stepped into the garden and skipped to a bush to pluck a violet flower off and tuck it underneath his strap. Peter slipped again but in so realized he was free somehow.

“Sorry, gentlemen,” the woman said. “Rain check.”

The _doom_ sound of a mass amount of electricity being shut off echoed around them as the Cloisters fell into darkness. The woman was gone. More than that, the sky rumbled with thunder and it began to sprinkle. Peter vaulted over the wall into the garden while Wade peered around. Peter ran to the well but the pieces of the garden she had put in it were burnt to wrinkled cinders.

“I get it. Rain. Check,” Wade commented behind him, but he startled when Peter rounded on him.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you pissy about?” Wade returned. “I told you to text me! I am ironically not at fault here.”

“You can’t just keep barging into my missions! It’s dangerous!”

“I know,” Wade shrugged. “Repeat after me: _Thank you, Wade, for being ever so gallant and noticing that I was glued to the wall. It’s so handsome and sexual how you broke that hoodoo circle simply by walking into it. I want you. Right here, under the rainy stars. Leave the smell of lavender and grass stains on my skin.’_ Do you have anything to add?”

“Where are your guns?”

That was clearly not what Wade expected. He glanced down as his belt. “I don’t really need them. I prefer them, don’t get me wrong. I like the feeling of something exploding in my hands. _Hmmm._ But I figured with your uncle being shot, it would be indecorous carrying those around.”

“You’re an idiot!” Peter exploded. “This is a high terr-rrum threat and you just waltz in—not prepared—we don’t even know what she pukes and you just—I was stuck! What if you were stuck! I-um…”

“Uh…” Wade puzzled.

“If you died!” Peter exploded, swaying a step forward. “Jus’cause you want a stupid date with me…”

_“Wade, Peter is blacking out. Please catch him.”_

“Oh, sure,” Wade chimed, closing the distance between them as Peter pitched forward, his words blending together. Wade’s arm closed around his waist, hoisting him up like he was carrying a large backpack. “Damn. This place had such potential, too. ‘Course I’m more of a blowjob in the movies and then take-out dinner at home kind of person. I’m gonna need a coat or something. I can’t walk around with a Spider-Man in my arms.”

 _“I have a route for you to get back to his clothing behind the café and then to his apartment.”_ Karen provided. _“With proper timing, you will not be witnessed.”_

“You are handy. For once I don’t mean that in a smutty way.”

_“I can appreciate that.”_

He followed her instructions and found Peter’s backpack hanging from the cafe's backdoor knob. “This isn’t the type of dress-up I like,” Wade complained as he covered Peter’s suit. He did not live far away, and soon Wade was dumping him onto his bed. Yanking boots and then gently peeling the mask off, he looked Peter over to be sure he was breathing comfortably before he said, “So how does the rest come off, exactly?”

 _“I don’t think Peter would like for me to tell you that,”_ Karen apologized.

“What would he think about you texting me?” he challenged.

_“I keep track of Peter’s sleep and calculated the moment he would faint. He would never hear of ignoring a mission, and you were the nearest ally to intervene.”_

“Hm,” Wade considered. “I’m in the good graces of Spidey’s super computer. I reckon you’re the best one to put in a good word for me when he’s feeling better.”

_“It is not in my programming to convince Peter of certain love interests.”_

“Fine, fine, but you should tell him how I didn’t steal a squeeze while he was unconscious. How I chivalrously carried him home like the princess he is and—should I clean something? Is that romantic? He seems the type to need romancing. Karen, give me tips.”

Karen paused. _“I understand Peter’s annoyance with you.”_

Wade gasped down at Peter’s suit. “I am the savior of your wearer!”

_“And if I were to reveal that Peter likes waffles with boysenberry syrup, what would you do?”_

“Boysenberry, huh?” Wade scratched his chin. "Succulent sweet tooth..."

 _“In exchange,”_ she returned, _“you said that woman was an assignment of yours.”_

“Ah, touché, darling,” Wade crooned as he sat beside Peter’s hip and picked up his hand to fiddle with his fingers. “Yes, the Greek siren is a mad scientist and pagan. I dated a pagan once. Beltane was awesome. It’s like the witchy valentine’s day, but instead of pink bears, it’s outdoor sex. Anyways, think _Marvel_ Poison Ivy. With a bit of Storm mixed in. Hell, it's probably easier just to call her a witch. Anything’s possible. She’s an environmentalist who causes more trouble than solves anything. That should be enough for you to go on?”

 _“Chloe Athena Vlanakis,”_ Karen confirmed. _“Yes, thank you.”_

“So what’s Peter’s favorite position?”

_“Please leave.”_


	8. Take Your Almost-Boyfriend to Work Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my fics hasn't sent out notification emails for new chapters lately, so you may want to check back to your favorites to see if AO3 is messing up anywhere else~

Peter came into consciousness feeling like he was drunk. Slowly he blinked sleep away and registered the dawn light falling over his bed. He rolled over, moaning gently in his exhalation as he felt his muscles stretch.

 _“Good morning, Peter,”_ Karen said quietly, to not startle him. Peter exhaled again, his eyes shutting while his brow furrowed. When they opened he looked down at himself: doubly dressed in his suit and yesterday’s clothes.

His head fell back onto his pillow. “You’re why Wade was there.”

 _“Yes,”_ she said shyly. _“Are you angry?”_

“No,” he exhaled as he rolled himself up and his legs off the bed. He let his head sag into his hand while the blood stabilized. “I guess it’s good that he took me home,” he voiced as he lethargically trod to the bathroom.

He paused. In his reflection was a violet flower tucked under the top of his pinna. It was wilted but still vibrant, the petals soft when he pulled it down for closer inspection. “I should say thanks.”

_“He would like that.”_

“I meant to you,” Peter corrected, and then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Oh god, he’s going to be so cocky.”

_“Undoubtedly, but he’s far from evil.”_

“You seem to have warmed up to him,” Peter commended as he began undressing for a shower. He had to admit: his reflection did look better. His eyes were puffy but brighter and his skin glowed with rejuvenation.

 _“He did ask me to put in a good word for him when you were awake,”_ Karen admitted.

“Is that what you’re doing?” he chuckled groggily, switching the shower on.

 _“I wouldn’t say that. Here, you can listen yourself,”_ she offered, and then Peter glanced back as Wade’s voice filled the bathroom:

_Fine, fine, but you should tell him how I didn’t steal a squeeze while he was unconscious. How I chivalrously carried him home like the princess he is and—should I clean something? Is that romantic? He seems the type to need romancing. Karen, give me tips._

Peter snorted softly in his throat, feeling a warmth in his belly. “What tips did you give him?”

 _“I wouldn’t disclose anything without your approval,”_ she assured, then, _“however I may have shared what you put on your waffles.”_

Peter stepped under the water and closed his eyes against the torrent. “I’m going to get a massive bouquet of waffle sticks aren’t I?”

_“That sounds nice!”_

“Don’t suggest that to him.”

_“Oh.”_

They fell into silence as he cleansed and emerged feeling warm and fresh. As he put on his skincare he thought back to Wade’s scars. “Karen.”

_“Yes, Peter?”_

“Wade…said he was engaged.”

_“Yes, for a little over four years.”_

Peter’s brows reached for his hairline. “Wow, that’s…committal.”

_“It is. Is this a surprise?”_

Peter sighed, “I guess it shouldn’t be. When did she end it?”

 _“Sixteen months and eleven days ago,”_ Karen said.

Peter reeled from the accuracy but then absorbed, “Almost two years?”

_“In other words, his attentions toward you are not within the usual parameters of someone seeking a rebound relationship.”_

His eyelids fell to half-mast. “Thank you.”

He set off for the café. He was definitely late this morning but Jessica did not seem the type to mind, and sure enough the place was up and running when he arrived. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he tied his black apron.

“Your first night closing followed by an opening shift is rough,” she understood. “It’s no problem.”

Customers began filing in and soon the lunch rush was underway. Peter suspected this was the prime reason Jessica was eager for another employee, as she was visibly stretched thin until he took tasks before she had a minute to do them. Such was the case when the lunch crowd began to disperse and it came time for someone to clean the tables of forgotten wrappers, cups, and crumbs. Peter moved easily through the tables, tidying up and was already refilling jars along the shelves by the time she finally had a moment to breathe.

“Would you mind if I went for my lunch break? I know you have class.”

“It was cancelled,” he lied. “Go ahead.”

“Ah,” she sighed, relieved, “Thanks, Peter.”

The bell chimed as the door closed behind her and he continued with the jars as it chimed again. He knew without looking who it was, but it was not until several things clattered on the counter and fell to the floor that he turned around to see Wade trying and failing to arrange several boxes and bottles.

He sighed theatrically. “Ah, shit. Okay. So—” he moved his hand as if he had a mane of hair to toss aside. “I’ve got everything: chamomile, decaf coffee, and some other teas that are supposed the make you sleep but there were too many to choose from. I’ll admit I stole this one but it was two dollars more for the same monkey-ass-tasting ingredients? Is it _special_ tea that will give you unicorn dreams? I may have—” he cleared his throat, “—stolen these as well since they’re prescription. Stronger than the tea, but I’d take the side effects of anal bleeding seriously.”

He remembered something else and yanked a small paper bag from one of his belt pouches. “I’m not sure if the lady sold me shrooms or echinacea but. Well. I won’t complain. I also got what I think is a butt plug. Turns out it’s just an ‘amethyst wand.’ It was a holistic shop. She said amethyst was good for sleep? I’m convinced it’s a butt plug, but hey, won’t know ‘til we try it, huh?”

Peter’s brows lifted as he watched him set the carved purple stone on the counter and plant the bases of his palms on the edge while he looked at Peter. “Mmm, you look good awake, honey.”

“Thanks,” he uttered, deadpan.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“Do you know my entire schedule?” Peter inquired.

“For the most part, yeah,” Wade confirmed unashamedly. He raised a hand as he said, “In my defense, your counselor was easy to bribe. Argentinian coffee and a croissant are probably the easiest prices I’ve ever paid.”

His head turned, then, as if in realization. “This is what you meant by ‘boundaries,’ isn’t it?”

“For the most part, yeah,” Peter returned.

Wade palmed his face and sank so far that eventually only his nose and fingertips rested on the counter. “You’re not mad, are you? Are you gonna—” Those white eyes widened. “—Yes. Punish me.” He stood back up, leaning over the counter. “In fact, what exactly is the best way to get strung up by a certain somebody? For sexual purposes. I have a thing for uniforms.”

Peter’s jaw slid to the side to keep from outright smiling. “Of course. What other reasons would you ever mean?”

“Ooh…” Wade crooned as he set his elbows on the counter and then his jaw on his palm, fanning his fingertips across his cheek. “There are so many things. Torture, but we won’t talk about that one. Maybe you’re feeling gassy. Inversions are wonderful for spinal realignment—”

“Wade,” Peter finally laughed, rubbing his eyes.

“What?”

“You talk so much.”

“There are ways to change that.”

“Yes, I know. You’ve made that abundantly clear,” he laughed breathily.

Wade was quiet as he watched him, and then asked, “When are we going after the witch?”

Peter’s mirth vanished entirely, inducing Wade to scold, “Come on, she’s got her cougar eyes on you, and you can’t deny that I’m…” he sighed, “I’m getting annoyed how often I say this in the wrong way, but I’m _handy_ in a fight. You know this, plus she’s my target too. It’s take your almost-boyfriend to work day!”

Peter’s gaze drifted to the counter and its pile of sleeping aids as he admitted softly, “You’re right.”

“And I do mean to brag when I say I’m pretty fantastic with my sword—swords—fuck! I can’t talk about phallic things without dick meaning; it’s the best part of me—”

“I said you were right.”

“When?” Wade puzzled. “It can’t be the dick thing because you haven’t seen it yet. I’ll admit it’s pretty standard but I _assure_ you, oh I assure you, sweetie, I know how to use it.”

Peter glared at him. “You’re right about her being our target.”

“Oh. Well that’s anticlimactic.”

“So I’ll text you this time. Now get out. I have to sabotage the security footage again.”

Wade gasped, horrified. “I did it again! I’m better than this! You just wait! I mean—don’t. All of you fuckers didn’t see anything!” He ran out of the café.

Those fuckers were a college student so deep in espressos and headphones that she didn’t even hear him, and an elderly gentleman whose hearing aides were not working if his confusion was anything to go by.


	9. Table Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer one :)

Peter’s phone buzzed in his backpack he had left behind but the message appeared in the lens of his mask. Wade’s reply to his location was an immediate paragraph of colorful hearts, faces with heart eyes, and vegetables.

He sighed, “Is this a bad idea?”

 _“Cancelling now may be a bit awkward since he is already here,”_ Karen apologized. Peter had a split second to be puzzled before a whistle drew his gaze downward. Wade was waving at him from the street.

“How are you here already?” he asked as he climbed down the side of the alley.

“What do you mean?” Wade said and then he planted his fists on his hips. “All that sleep and you forgot my job? I’ve been tracking her too. I don’t just lie around and touch myself all day.”

Peter put his hand up. “All right, sorry.”

“Apology accepted—EW! Gross, what am I stepping in? Why do you travel via alleyway? Do you know what happens in these weird snot tunnels?”

“It’s not my m.o.,” Peter defended. “This is a residential area. I can’t just walk down the street.”

“Really? I did it just fine.”

“You’re foreign, and not much fazes people here.”

However Wade was thinking aloud, “Although I did pass a boy who might have discovered too soon that he favors a tight ass in red pants instead of a red dress. Then again, you could have been the reason for that and I just confirmed it for him.”

He looked at Peter silently staring at him. “What?”

“I don’t even know how to respond to you,” he admitted bluntly.

“Speechless, yes. I have that effect. Normally it’s insulted shock but for you let’s interpret it as jaw dropping attraction.”

Peter snorted softly in his throat. “That’s how you want to interpret it?”

“You’ve only hit me once so far,” Wade considered. “That’s saying something.”

Peter’s voice changed as he said, “That was when I was trying to have you arrested…”

Wade’s head tilted. “That sounds like you’ve changed your mind.”

“I can’t very well arrest someone I’m partnering with on a job.”

Wade’s eyes widened. “So we’re partners?”

“Not, like, romantically,” Peter sputtered.

“You said it.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did. Karen, play back.”

“She doesn’t record every conversation I have with—!”

_“‘I can’t very well arrest someone I’m partnering with on a job.’ I do record everything but I delete them within seven days unless told otherwise of their importance.”_

Peter had never felt so betrayed.

“That’s my girl. Robot. Abstract person,” Wade processed. "Wow, I said that on a whim, too. I didn't expect to be right."

“You say everything on a whim. We have a job to do,” Peter tried to distract, turning around and keeping to the shadows of the alleyway.

“Sure do!” Wade chimed. “Let’s seal the deal with a kiss.”

“No.”

“With a secret handshake?”

“No.”

“Even better: I’ve got candy. Can’t say if they’re any good or not since I made them today. I might have overdone it with the salt.”

“Salt?” Peter finally turned around and witnessed the small sweet wrapped in what looked like pink tissue paper.

“Salted caramel covered in chocolate,” Wade confirmed as he peered into one of his belt pouches. “I have seven or so…they may have melted into three. This one still has some integrity, though.”

“You…make truffles?” Peter said with unmistakable awe.

“Woah,” Wade held up a hand. “I’m not claiming any patisserie ability. I just learned you have a sweet tooth and try to keep the kids at my brothel occupied. They helped me melt some things down, is all.”

“You made these for me?”

“Well. Yeah?” Wade said like it was obvious.

Peter swallowed thickly. “Okay, I’ll have one.”

Wade plopped it onto his hand and Peter lifted his mask enough to eat it. Some of the pink paper stuck to it but he did not mind. Wade likewise pried one of the sweets from his pouch and unwrapped as much as he could before they both broke through the chocolate shell to the pure salt interior.

“Ach! Fuck!” Wade choked, propping his arm against the alley wall.

Peter was rapidly dissolving into a fit of giggles. “I thought…” he laughed, “I thought you said this was salted _caramel?”_

“Hang on, Poseidon is throat-fucking me,” Wade exclaimed, doubling over to put his hands on his knees.

Peter was lost to his laughter and coughs while they slowly recovered. Wade peeked up at him and stood up straight, absorbing that bubbly, sweet sound. “Now that makes up for the salt.”

“Huh?” Peter asked vaguely as his fingertips dipped under his mask to wipe his eyes. “Thanks, I guess. That’s my salt intake for the rest of my life.”

Wade took the lead this time. “Let’s go sweat it out, Spidey. It looks like it’s supposed to rain again, and if the witch charges her power with the weather, then we’re in for a rough time. Rougher than pleasant.”

“You know I have orders to confine her, not kill her,” Peter rushed. Wade’s stride was certainly wider than his but he kept up easily and leapt over dumpsters to crawl on the wall beside him.

Wade gave this some thought. “Well I have a job to kill her, and that sort of is my m.o., especially since she’s able to David Copperfield her way out of tight situations.”

“We were distracted by the electricity turning off and the rain,” Peter argued.

Wade peered at him. “Oh boy, your big science brain is a disadvantage this time around.”

Peter stepped back onto the pavement as the alleyway ended and they entered a more industrial area under construction. “It’s not a disadvantage—that’s how our world works; it’s bound by certain laws of physics.”

“You’re cute, but you’ve literally worked with gods, so I don’t understand why you’re underestimating the cougar lady.”

“I—” Peter began, but then he gave this more consideration. “I’m never really allowed to take on the supernatural ones. That’s always a…whole Avengers-go! type thing.”

Wade grabbed one of Peter’s hands and placed it on his chest, rubbing Peter’s palm all over his chest. “You’ve gotta open your mind to the psychedelic part of this world, man.”

“What does this have to do with me touching you?” Peter said bluntly.

“I’m just providing the opportunity,” he chimed, and then felt Peter’s fingertips grip him through his suit.

“Well you’re distracting me when we need to be focused,” he bodily moved Wade toward an easier route through the construction site.

“I take that as a compliment,” Wade chimed. “I want to be prime real estate in those big, complicated spider thoughts.”

“If you keep stalking me the way you are—Wade.”

“Hm? What’s up? Why the delay in the criticism?” Wade said as he turned to face him.

“You’re bleeding,” Peter said, holding up the hand that had been on Wade’s chest.

“Oh, yeah, about that. We’re kind of already here.”

“Here?”

“I had a feeling the witch mojo would block Karen’s high tech stuff. Fortunately you’ve got me. I dated a witch once. I know the tricks. You’re gonna want to duck.”

The moment he said it, Peter felt the hairs on his neck rise and he did just that. However Wade did not. A sewer pipe flew over Peter and crashed into Wade, sending him into a towering pile of unmixed concrete.

“WADE?” Peter shrieked.

His body tumbled down the hill of concrete powder, where he landed and groaned. His arm came around to grip his other arm and yank it back into socket. He worked his way onto all fours, shaking his head, and then to his feet, where he waved at Peter and pointed behind him. Peter swung up to a high layer of scaffolding, where he was able to survey the area. Karen marked in his lenses where henchmen were and more.

_“Wade is correct. There is an interference of some kind in my software, but I can still operate through your suit.”_

“Don’t sweat it, K,” Peter said as he swung down to take out three men who were conveniently lined up like dominos.

 _“Be mindful of the concrete,”_ she warned. _“With the weather moving in, you are likely meant to be trapped in it.”_

Karen found the witch in his lens and he swung onto the rooftop but stayed on the side of the building for distance. “Question. Why am I a hot commodity?”

Athena smiled at him. “A woman has need of heavy lifting every once and a while.”

“I think you’re sugar coating it, which is annoying that Deadpool is right. You’re sketchy in a nonconsensual way.”

“STOP CHATTING AND DO YOUR THING!” Wade yelled up to him while he was otherwise occupied fighting. Peter quickly swung around the rooftop, shooting webs across any scaffolding and escape routes she could possibly use before he went down to help him.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” he yelled as Peter took down two of the eight men surrounding him.

“You’re out numbered!”

“Cock-sickle,” he cursed, swinging his sword low so many legs severed from their bodies. As men fell he confronted Peter. “Sweet cakes, I’ve done this before. You do your thing and I’ll do mine—”

Peter’s attention jerked to Wade’s leg kicking someone who had approached behind him. “I said it before, I’ll say it again: only I have dibs on the spider! No touching!”

 _“I agree with him, Peter,”_ Karen voiced. _“I have your venom enabled. Incapacitate her.”_

He used it first on the surrounding people. Like a wall of men falling, they immediately collapsed, unconscious. Back on the rooftop, Athena’s hair was already dampening with the rain falling over their heads. Peter landed near her but stumbled against the wind knocking into him.

“Ah—Okay! I don’t know how you’re doing that but could you not?”

The wind pushed his webs down when he shot them at her. Her features twisted in anger and confusion. Whatever she was trying to do was not working. He needed to get closer, but lightning or some sort of spear of energy landed between them, casting him off of the roof. He managed to swing from the scaffolding of a neighboring structure into the skeleton of the building, but he had lost her.

“SPIDEY!”

Peter ran through the building and looked down at Wade on the ground. “Get out of here! This is getting unpredictable.”

“That’s stupid. Why would I leave?” Wade exclaimed and then, “OH. Does this mean you like me?”

“WADE—” Peter yelled as pipes shot across the site. Peter leapt back into the structure to use the concrete pillars as protection from the pipes coming with enough force to pierce through the outer concrete wall of the building.

Sticking his webs to the ceiling, Peter pulled to build tension and let it sling shot him out and up all the way onto the roof. There he saw Wade running across the lower layers of scaffolding. He was quick, Peter had to grant him that.

“Wade!”

“Tell me you like me!” he sang, leaping to the next building’s scaffolding to avoid an explosion of energy behind him. The building was coming down under Peter, who now saw his target: Athena was on the other side of the site. How she had gotten there did not matter now. Peter kept pace with Wade, leaping clear from rooftop to rooftop.

“Yes, fine, I like you, now stop being stupid!”

“Give me a boost!” Wade said. “Help me up there!”

Peter groaned and Wade felt a web hit his shoulder blades like a sledge hammer before he was yanked skyward—

He did not feel it so much as he heard Peter scream his name.

And then all went dark.

*******

Peter gasped, stunned at the sight of Wade pinned to the structure by too many pipes in his body. White, dancing threads of electricity moved among the pipe ends as his head lolled and fell onto his shoulder. A crimson splotch dripped on the concrete behind him where he had hit his skull.

Peter’s head turned, finding the witch. She did not have too many of her followers to help her now but Karen was marking all the metal in the area for him to avoid, which was not easy as it rose to meet him.

Peter ran around the site, shooting webs like walls ahead of him to catch the debris hurtling toward him. He had to be mindful of the skinnier objects that could pass through the fibers, but soon only a stack of steel beams separated him from her. Athena’s hand was raised, and he could hear the static in the air as she aimed it…

Her eyes widened at the sight of her own treatment: beams hanging on webbing and simply swinging with the momentum of gravity toward her. She turned to run but Peter’s webs latched onto her ankles and she fell onto her front to be dragged backwards under the swinging beams.

She stopped at Peter’s feet. Blinking against the rain as she gazed up at him, she said, “Do you think your poison will work against me?”

“I don’t care,” he uttered, and shot a web over her eyes. The impact knocked her head back and her consciousness out.

Karen’s diagnostics bloomed to life in his lenses and a message was sent to a Stark drone to come and pick up the witch. He bound and gagged her so she was fully incapacitated in his narcotic webbing while he otherwise landed on the wall with Wade.

He had at least four pipes in his lungs, which Peter pulled out to fall loudly below them. It was an unnerving sight, watching his body slump as each pole was removed, but Peter lowered his body slowly, carefully, to the ground after the last one was drawn out. The darkness made the blood now dripping out of him look black and rippling with raindrops.

The lights of the drones coming to pick up the witch came and left, but Peter remained, unsure what to do with Wade’s body. Peter was usually so exhausted or injured after battles that he was immediately taken to medical care and not in charge of…cleaning up.

 _“It’s okay, Peter. You can leave him where he is,”_ Karen soothed as if hearing his thoughts.

Not knowing what else to do, he stood…only to stumble. “Take off my mask,” he rasped, and it instantly dissolved from his face. The rain mixed with his anguish and fell into his eyes that felt bruised.

 _“Peter?”_ Karen said quietly.

His hands covered his face. “I tried…I tried to warn him. He was an idiot but he wasn’t bad. This always happens!”

_“Oh, Peter…”_

“No. No,” he said. “It would be nice if Stark did have brain mites. Then you could delete this like every other memory you record.”

_“Peter, please. Turn around.”_

His fingertips pressed into his eyes as he shook his head. “I don’t want to see him again—”

There was a cough behind him. A bubbly, wet sound, and an indignant hack of air.

*******

Wade felt the burn in his lungs. This was usually what woke him up. Next was the awful sting of his injury healing. Like fire, if fire were needles slithering around like a pile of mating snakes.

“Ugh…” he groaned, sitting up. His head swam with the rush of blood to his cranium but the aching fog cleared as he looked over himself and stood to survey his surroundings. “Shit…did I miss everything? Ugh—”

Blood was in his mouth. He hastily lifted his mask to his nose to spit it out and cough much more. He palmed his chest, feeling the holes there as well as the wetness of his own breathing.

“Ass, I sound like a hookah pipe.”

He lazily rotated and faced Spider-Man, only his mask was off. “Spidey, what’d I miss? And do you know your face is visible? Also, it’s kind of dark, but you look like you’re living in a nightmare. What are you looking at? OH.”

He followed Peter’s flickering eyes toward the holes gradually closing in his abdomen. “Aw, damn. Was I not clear?” he asked as he tried for a semblance of modesty and covered the holes. “I can’t die. Instant regeneration, and all that. Well. Almost instant. Hahh...now this is awkward—”

Wade rocked backward as his arms were suddenly full of Peter. Solid but trembling, their bodies collided as Peter’s arms hugged around his neck. “Hey, I’m okay. I’m fine! See,” Wade laughed breathily, holding him tightly. “I can squeeze you and annoy you and everything…oh, shit. Peter…”

Sobs burst from Peter, and once begun they could not stop. His face buried against Wade’s shoulder as he sucked in air, heaving with his anguish and relief. He did not even notice how Wade had lifted him against his body, cradling and holding him off the ground. Peter’s throat ached while he cried, and his voice broke when he realized Wade was kissing his hair, his neck. The sensitive length of his throat meeting the soft, tender flesh of his lips lifted Peter’s head to see Wade’s face; the lower half of it, anyway.

“Hey, baby boy,” he crooned, smiling a nice, toothy grin. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Kind of have a confession too: I meant to feed you salt. And get blood on you. Salt is like, the bleach of witch stuff, so I figured anything of hers would break or at least weaken if you had some…magic bleach. Also, surprise again. The whole dying thing isn’t really my forte, so while she defies your physics…I defy her magic, even though walking through a magic circle hurts like a sunburn up the anus.

“But there you have it. I can break witch circles and my party trick is regrowing limbs. I’m literally perfect. Actually, it’s not as cool as it sounds. Kind of gross, really— _Mm.”_

Peter’s mouth silenced him.

Slippery but soft, his lips moved over Wade’s, messy and desperate. Wade felt Peter’s feet behind him as his legs tightened around him.

 _Ooh, koala make-out is a go!_ he thought briefly before his own arms closed around Peter and he returned his kiss tenfold. Peter whimpered delicately into his mouth, his body trembling. Wade licked it up, first tasting his lip and then sliding into his mouth to chase his tongue. If Peter tasted blood, he made no moves to avoid it.

He exclaimed briefly when Wade turned, pressing his back against the building and licking and nibbling up Peter’s neck. As if from far away, Peter heard his own breathing and his voice escaping with it, until he pulled Wade back up for his mouth. Wade himself growled huskily in his throat, and Peter shivered. He realized he liked the sound.

He startled, though, when Wade’s hand lowered for his ass and slid over a thigh for his groin. Peter trembled and withdrew to say, “I-I can’t.”

“Maybe not now,” Wade agreed. “I could cut ice with these nipples. I’m surprised your suit doesn’t have tears in it. Let’s take this someplace warmer, huh?”

The smile on his face was marred with pain. “This part of me doesn’t work much anymore.”

“All I ask,” Wade murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, “is you trust me a little bit more. Now seriously. Nipples. Ice. Would it kill the mood if you carried me? You travel faster than I do.”

Wade missed the part where Spider-Man’s mask went back on but he was too preoccupied with the thrill of being strapped onto Peter’s back like the most oversized backpack in the history of time.

“Ooh SHIT!” he screamed as they swung under the Brooklyn Bridge, but his terror was mixed with laughter and he managed to keep quiet through the inner city. “Did I mention how hot it is that you can carry me?” he said as Peter lifted his window open.

“Try not to drip too much on my bed,” Peter requested. Wade soon understood why, as the bed was directly on the other side of the glass. He had to step once on it but hopped onto the floor as he heard the window shutting behind him.

“Mm, I think a shower would do us right,” he purred, looking around him and sauntering to the corresponding part of the apartment. The lights flicked on—

“Nope,” he instantly overlapped Peter’s hand on the switch. “You’ll want darkness for this part. Trust me.”

“I don’t mind,” Peter urged quietly.

“Let me take the lead, hero,” he said as he flicked the shower on. “Firstly, uh…how does the suit come off?”

Right before his eyes, the suit rippled with faint blue light as it dissolved into the spider icon on his chest, which then skittered down Peter’s arm to jump onto the sink. It rested beside Peter’s toothbrush.

“Oh, boy,” he exhaled, looking over Peter’s naked form apart from his boxers. “Mine doesn’t come off that easy. And there’s the process of…unwrapping that’s like mental preparation. This is like skipping Christmas morning.”

Peter stared at him, his hands paused on his boxers. “Should I…put it back on?”

“NO. Absolutely not,” Wade corrected. “But riddle me this: how have you been able to take off your mask before?”

“It can still behave like regular fabric,” Peter said in a tone that bluntly asked, _Why are we talking about this now?_

“Wow…” he fawned.

Peter cleared his throat, which was sore from crying. “So, um…yours takes more work, you said?”

“Right! Right,” Wade realized, and quickly unbuckled his belt and shrugged off his swords. He removed his mask and touched his torso before he noticed Peter going for a boot. “Oh no, sweetling, you don’t wanna pet those puppies. Best to let me handle those and then let the shower do the rest. You go on in, I’ll be there in a second.”

Peter’s boxers fell in a whisper of sound compared to the grunts and rustles of Wade’s process. He peeked out of the shower curtain. “Are you sure you don’t want—ow.”

“I’m sure,” Wade said as his chest met Peter’s face. The shower was not built for two grown men but Wade hardly seemed to mind as he tipped Peter’s jaw up and found his mouth. He jerked slightly when Wade’s erection poked his leg. “Sorry, I’m excited.”

Peter was audibly uncomfortable. “It’s okay. I’m just…not.”

Wade’s hand paused on his waist. “Like emotionally or phallically?”

Peter’s touch was light as his hands moved across Wade’s stomach, his ribs, mapping the texture of scars. “I’m here, emotionally, but…there’s a disconnect.”

“I’m going to wander around, is that okay?” Wade asked.

He could not see Peter clearly or the tears that slid from red eyes but Peter nodded, “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Are you crying again?”

“Maybe.”

“Your juicy feelings,” he sighed, his palm cradling Peter’s cheek. “It’s okay to stop suppressing them when you’re with me. I can take it. I’ll give you a sticker and lollipop when I’m done.”

“Ugh,” Peter groaned. “You’re the last person to be a doctor.”

“Maybe a sex doctor,” he suggested.

Peter snorted but without mirth. “Yeah. Good luck.”

Then he felt Wade’s lips on his temple, his cheekbone. “That whole trust thing. It’s wild and scary like falling off a building, but it helps.”

“God, you actually did that,” Peter realized.

Wade laughed gently against his neck. “Yeah, it was great. Mostly because you caught me.”

“What if I didn’t?” Peter worried.

“Nuh uh,” Wade scolded. “That’s not how it works. You did catch me. And if you didn’t, well, it would hurt physically more than emotionally, I can verify that. But I’d walk away from it—oh my.”

Peter sucked in air as he felt himself jerk slightly against Wade’s leg. It was small and brief, but it was there. Suddenly Wade’s hands were around his face, holding him steady while he ravished Peter’s mouth. Peter moaned as he felt tiny, swirling drops of lust trickle into his cock, making it jerk before it fell back down.

“You’re allowed to like me,” Wade purred against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He had tapped a nerve, and felt Peter’s features move in his hands as he rose onto his toes to kiss him. Wade’s hand slipped down his waist to experimentally squeeze his ass, and resulted in Peter once again climbing him like a tree. Wade was not sure if Peter was aware of it but he liked it a whole bunch.

His lips dragged across Peter’s cheek to bite his ear; Peter held on to him desperately as his body shivered around him.

“I’ll be needing access to your prostate,” Wade revealed. “Even if your twizzler doesn’t rise, your sweet bean will. Is that okay?”

A brief snort of mirth escaped him as he buried his face in Wade’s shoulder, where he nodded. Wade could hear him swallow. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I figured. It’s not as messy as people think, but let’s do some cleaning.”

Peter lurched against him when fingertips found his entrance. Peter quaked around Wade as he felt those fingers slide through the valley of his ass and then one of them slid inside, two knuckles deep.

“Peter?”

“I’m—uh—freaking out,” he admitted.

“Good freak out or bad freak out?”

“Um. I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed.”

“Hmm…” Wade considered. “Let’s move this to the bed. Maybe your spidey antennas are picking up too many wavelengths.”

Peter felt the water leave his backside as Wade pushed the shower curtain aside and loosely threw the towel over him. “Antennas? I don’t have—”

“I mean shower sex is overrated,” Wade clarified as he kicked his belt into the room and set Peter on the bed. “Too much noise and stuff on your skin. Less is more, and you’ll be able to feel me better in here. Do you have another towel?”

Peter roughly moved his towel over his hair while Wade dried in record time and removed something from his belt pouches: travel sized lubricant.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “You carry lube with you?”

“Hey, I get stuck in places,” Wade defended. “It’s more convenient than you think. Now, hm. Don’t really need these but it’s a courtesy.”

Peter’s eyes locked on the condoms and then narrowed. “First, how long have you been carrying condoms, and why wouldn’t we need them?”

“Not dying exempts me from lusty diseases and infections. So nothing transmitted here,” Wade said proudly. “As for why, again, latex is convenient to have. I’m old fashioned, all right? No gadgets here. Now lie back, hero. It’s butt fuck time.”

Peter grimaced. “That’s a bit of a mood killer.”

“Oh,” Wade realized as he joined him on the bed. “Right. You’re the romantic type. I’m not sure how to do this romantically.”

Peter was not sure what he meant as Wade’s hands moved behind his knees, but then his legs were lifted over his head and his ass was exposed for Wade to lick over his hole.

“O-Oh!” Peter stammered, and then his hands found Wade’s head. He gasped and grimaced against the loud, wet sucking sound but it quickly faded from his thoughts as the strong muscle of Wade’s tongue entered him. “W-Wade! Don’t!”

He only received a husky moan from Wade’s chest as he lavished Peter’s ass. He could hear Peter’s head turn against his sheets and his breathing as he slipped lube and saliva inside of him. Peter wriggled and shivered at the wetness, and then Wade was setting his pelvis on top of his thighs so he was still elevated but Wade could slide two fingers inside.

“Breathe, handsome,” he purred. “This is meant to feel good, remember?”

“It’s-It’s,” he stammered. “When is it?”

“Well it should be right about…here.”

Peter felt nothing. And then _something_ all at once. The pads of Wade’s fingers swirled over the spot before the back of his nail carefully flicked over his prostate and a firecracker shot through Peter’s nervous system.

“There you are,” his voice greeted and Peter gaped down at Wade kissing the head of his erection; not fully there but certainly more lifted and sensitive than it had been in a long time.

“Oh god, it’s there—it’s ther—ah!” Peter stuttered against Wade’s chuckle as he felt himself slide inside Wade’s throat. Air hissed through his teeth as another finger stretched him to his fullest. “W-Wade! That’s it, I can’t—”

“Calm down, this is all I need. Like I said, I’m standard but it’s all about how you use it.”

“Is it going in tonight?” he asked bluntly.

“Preferably,” Wade admitted, “but I’m not the type to think penis penetration is the only sex. We’re doin’ it, baby. Congratulations, yay to us.”

Laughter bubbled up Peter’s throat as tears slipped past his temples. “I wouldn’t mind trying.”

“I’m glad you said that because I’m dying over here. Sexually, you know what I mean.”

He heard the _schlick_ of the condom wrapper being torn open and Wade brought Peter’s hands to his penis. “Would you care to do the honors?”

Peter rolled it on as Wade planted his hands on either side of him to lean his pelvis into Peter’s hands. As Peter’s fingers met Wade’s pubic bone, he felt Wade’s lips on his forehead as he blurted. “You don’t have hair anywhere?”

“I am Brazilian wax ready at all times,” he confirmed. Peter giggled as those lips trailed over his temple, down to his jaw and neck. He continued all the way down Peter’s body, relishing the yelp when he bit a nipple and then the squirm of Peter’s pelvis as he nibbled on the tender flesh under his belly button. He gave his cockhead another languid lick and _pop_ of his mouth to be sure he would stay hard as he aligned himself with Peter’s entrance.

“Inhale deeply,” he advised, “and exhale slowly.”

Peter mechanically obeyed, but blinked rapidly once Wade was through the ring of his entrance. “Oh—crap, it’s in! It’s going in—not crap. That’s poor choice of words now. Ow—um. Not ow, but it’s…uncomfortable. It’s tight. What do you mean you’re standard size? Everything’s big when it’s going in reverse down there. Oh crap! Heck. Oh heck! It’s—”

“Peter?” Wade paused. His hand cradled his face. “You’re talking more than me, now, and that’s scary. Do you want me to stop?”

Peter’s chest heaved as he breathed a bit too quickly. “I don’t know. No.”

“I prefer a yes or no here. Do you like cherry pie or don’t you?”

Peter blinked. “I love cherries.”

Wade stared at him and then shuddered with laughter. “I didn’t mean—it’s an example. Pull out or don’t pull out?”

Instead of answering immediately, Wade felt Peter’s hands on his waist, and then tentatively move down to his rear. “Don’t. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just different. And a lot. A lot of different.”

“Mmm,” Wade hummed as he slowly continued his progress inside of him. “It will be a good different soon. Ah! Perhaps now?”

Peter’s nails bit into him when Wade slid past his prostate. “Good news,” Wade chimed breathlessly. “Prostate’s nice and swollen. You’re plump and aroused for me.”

“I don’t need the anatomy lesson!” Peter huffed raggedly as Wade bottomed out.

“It’s science,” Wade defended. “I’m talking science to you. Isn’t that your sort of dirty talk?”

Peter’s hands covered his face. “I’ve never talked this much during sex.”

“Would you prefer equations? Mm, baby, your parabola’s so nice…” Wade said as he moved in for a kiss.

“Oh my god, stop,” Peter laughed, moving his face aside. Wade gladly traded his attentions to Peter’s neck as he carefully ground against him. The air halted in Peter’s throat as sensations shot through him. Wade lifted up enough to move a hand to his penis, stroking and twisting over the head.

Peter gasped and breathed wantonly, unconsciously moving with him. “You’re doing good…real good, Peter…”

“I’m…mm! I want to come, but…” he moved helplessly, trying to find his orgasm in Wade’s movements.

“Stop thinking about it. Just feel me and enjoy it.”

“I want you to enjoy it too,” he exclaimed. “I don’t want you waiting on me if it’s not gonna—”

“You’re thinking about it.”

“I just—”

“Peter.”

“Wade.”

“I may have just eaten your ass but I’m going to kiss you now, so stop talking.”

“That’s a table turnmmh!” Peter retorted before his mouth was thoroughly occupied. His arms rose to curl around Wade’s neck while Wade’s likewise moved under him. His pace was gentle and slow, tantalizing Peter’s insides so his climax never built, but his nerves softly buzzed with lust.

Then it changed. Maybe they had been at it so long that his body was finally awake, or it was Wade’s thumb on the hole of his penis or his slight increase in speed, but Peter felt wet and needy. His ass made glopping, slick sounds as Wade moved with the lube, and both it and the large man so carefully moving around him made Peter feel vulnerable. Wide open yet warm and cared for as Wade kissed his chest, his shoulder and bicep; anything his lips could reach.

Wade sensed the change and heaved Peter up so he was kneeling on the bed with Peter straddling his thighs. “Move with me, baby. Find it.”

Peter’s toes brushed the sheets behind him as he clumsily found how to do so. Reaching behind him, Peter placed his hands on Wade’s knees. His fingertips gripped the skin while his pelvis moved, but he accidentally slipped and slammed down over Wade, both of them shuddering.

“You’re welcome to do that again,” Wade said raggedly.

Peter did so, but a bit more gently. The curve of his body as his chest needed to jut forward for his hands to reach back made Wade's penis press against his front from the inside. Wade’s hands palmed his ass, guiding him into a curving thrust that gradually grew in a clumsy and frantic rutting.

“There! There!” Peter gasped as Wade’s teeth were on his nipple and his hand was on his cock. “Wade! Wade!”

The answer was a growl and a bite on his neck that sent Peter over the edge, tumbling over a cliff to be caught and tossed over waves and waves of explosive pleasure. He jerked and collapsed over Wade, thrashing as gently as he could so his strength did not accidentally injure him.

But then he remembered that Wade could take it, and it was as if his orgasm doubled back, tenfold. Peter’s limbs gripped Wade’s body as his own mouth found his ear, pulling on it with his teeth. His body moved freely, finding and claiming its orgasm.

“Ah! Hahh, shit-fuck, _yes,”_ he cursed, clutching Peter tightly. He liked that feeling, being able to hold onto someone without restriction. Wade came hard inside of him, but Peter was still rolling in his own pleasure so Wade’s voice mixed with his own as if in a distant dream as Peter saw spots. Then they landed against his pillows and sheets, and the waves drowned him in slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> David Copperfield is a famous magician and twizzlers are a type of candy for any international folks who've never had it (they're also called red vines).


	10. Little Known Fact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this later, but you all have waited long enough ~

Wade’s head lifted, his body clock knowing it was an hour before dawn. A weight on his arm kept him in place: Peter was sound asleep, his breathing soft but loud with slumber. Wade could not complain; his arm was far too numb to feel anything. Experimentally, he ran a hand over Peter’s hair. He shifted ever so slightly, but slept on after his limbs nudged Wade’s, as if confirming in his dreams that he was there.

“A cuddler,” Wade whispered, pinching a lock of hair between his fingers. “I like a cuddler. Except I’m only cuddly in the dark.”

Ever so carefully, he lifted Peter’s head and reclaimed his arm though it was limp and useless as he climbed out of bed—

_“Wade?”_

He had a silent panic attack while reaching for his suit. “Jesus, suck my ass! Karen!” he hissed. “After a night of two dudes doing the wet noodle dance, a random woman’s voice is like mom barging in!”

_“Oh…”_ she processed, and then a deeper voice asked, _“Is this better?”_

“No. It’s definitely weirder.”

_“All right,”_ she switched back. _“Are you leaving?”_

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Wade jibed. “I’m not as magical in the daylight...although now I’m realizing an A.I. was cucking the whole time...”

_“But Peter will be unhappy if he wakes up and you’re not here.”_

Wade’s progress in pulling on his suit slowed. “Why do you say that?”

_“His temperature drops when he sleeps. An external source of heat helps prolong his REM sleep and ease the transition between sleep and consciousness.”_

“Ah huh,” Wade understood as he cinched his suit shut. “I’ll tuck him in nice and tight.”

Holding his mask under his arm, he returned to the bed to do just that, covering Peter’s shoulder and moving the spare pillow against him. As he approached the door, the spider of Peter’s suit was moving across the wall, glowing faintly blue as Karen said, _“May I ask you something personal?”_

“My measurements fluctuate with my meals and the holidays.”

_“I have already scanned you and have your dimensions,”_ she disregarded.

“Wow. You really cover all bases. Okay, shoot.”

_“You asked Peter to trust you, but you don’t seem to trust him. Why?”_

Wade loosely wrung the mask in his hands. “I do trust him. I also know what I look like. It’s not a complexion most people want to wake up next to. I’d like to beat the rush and avoid the screaming.”

_“I think you should consider giving him more credit,”_ she voiced. _“He did not lie when he said he doesn’t do casual relationships.”_

“Hey, there’s a first time for anything,” he said as he pulled the mask on. “I’m honored it was me.”

_“You should know that Chloe Vlanakis escaped captivity,”_ she finished.

He sighed, “I don’t mean to be that person, but my methods are more effective than Spidey’s. Adieu, Karen.”

* * * * * * *

Peter’s eyes opened with the feeling of being lost in time. Slowly, his body caught up and he felt both sore and the floating deadweight of being utterly satisfied. Eventually he oriented himself close to the wall, but something was lacking from the bed. Someone’s inconvenient size had left him with a roomy fit.

_“Good morning, Peter,”_ Karen purred.

“Hmm…” he uttered as his head settled back onto the bed after doing a sweep of his apartment. “When did Wade leave?”

_“Forty-three minutes ago,”_ she replied.

“Any parting words?” he sighed, expecting a mouthful.

_“We discussed the matter of the witch’s escape,”_ Karen said conversationally. _“Although perhaps you would prefer to be informed of that after coffee?”_

Peter blinked, feeling more and more awake. “She got out of my webs? I need to talk to Stark.”

_“If I may, Wade might actually be the better resource for this enemy.”_

“I can’t ask him to teach me how to tie better knots. He’ll take that in a completely different direction.”

_“I meant his awareness of witch practices; their customs. He has been rather good at undermining her.”_

“Getting around things or people is something he’s annoyingly good at. Figures he’d make a career out of it.”

_“Similar to your compassion, Peter?”_ Karen wondered.

She had him, there. “Yeah, I guess so. Tell me I have the afternoon shift.”

_“You are correct. You are not expected until three. In the meantime, I have collected resources to help you with post-coital wellness.”_

He was deadpan. “Post. Coital. Wellness.”

_“A variety of tips from experienced and inexperienced men who dealt with soreness after their first time—”_

“Karen. Just get me ibuprofen and a banana.”

* * * * * * *

“What are the chances of a duck and a pigeon?”

“What?” the vendor barked as he squeezed mustard on the hotdog.

“I know there’s no shortage of pigeons,” Deadpool elaborated, “but is it a cat-dog situation? Or a terrier-husky one? Would a pigeon fuck a duck? And would that make a grey duck, or a mallard pigeon?”

The vendor guffawed as he pinched sauerkraut with his tongs. “I don’know, man. I’m more interested how you gonna eat this in that get up you got.”

“Same way I manage,” a different voice answered.

“Look at you! All bouncy so soon,” Wade greeted as Spider-Man landed beside him.

“Am I makin’ two’a these?” the vendor remarked as he bagged the food.

“Not today, Bennie,” Spider-Man answered, taking the bag and swinging a block away before Wade could process what happened.

He and the vendor glanced at each other. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s mad at me.”

“You payin’ me twice for a do-over?” the vendor asked indifferently.

* * * * * * *

“Did I leave the stove on, sweetie?” Wade asked as he sauntered over the scaffolding on which he had given Peter the cookies.

“No, but you didn’t leave a note either,” Peter replied as he tossed the bag at him. “Poor etiquette, don’t ya think?”

“Etiquette, my ass, that guy charges six dollars for these things!” Wade scolded as he opened the bag to inspect the damage. “Oh, he wrapped it up. Good, I like a guy who invests in wax paper.”

Peter was statuesque as he listened. He had not removed his mask. “You weren’t going to leave a note,” he murmured.

Wade perked up. “Well…it’s not like we aren’t bumping into each other. We have a witch to find, or she’ll announce where she is soon. Gotta respect a woman who isn’t shy — You’re very quiet. I don’t like you quiet. This is the eerie, I’m-about-to-get-my-ass-kicked quiet.”

Peter scratched his brow as his weight shifted, but when he still did not respond, Wade tapped his fingertips together. “I was really expecting a battle of wits when I met you, but—”

“Explain why you flirt relentlessly from the second you meet me and then leave before I wake up,” Peter ordered.

“I’m a morning person,” Wade chimed, but it lacked his usual cocky finesse.

“You know it’s my first time having anal sex but you leave without making sure I’m okay or helping me out,” Peter reiterated.

“Ugh,” Wade blundered. “Well if it’s not too arrogant to say, I knew you were fine? I know what I’m doing in this area, and you were sleeping like a bug in a rug.”

“Maybe you’re used to be skewered on a building,” Peter remarked, “but I’ve got p.t.s.d. dripping out of my ears. A night of good sex doesn’t cure that for me.”

“Okay, okay,” Wade scrubbed the back of his head. “I really fucked it. Let’s unpack this. Firstly, I’m the worst person for you. I admit that. Not only am I a walking trigger — pun intended — if you don’t like death scenes, but my tactic is to kill people. And I’m damn good at it. Your hero rules forbid that. But you like bad boys, oh you.”

Peter frowned as Wade pulled out a fan of all things from his belt, swishing it open and fanning his mask. He continued, “I’ve been doing my best to compromise on that front, but I’ll warn you now, things may get spectacularly bloody since witchy-dearest is being ornery. Nothing personal, just a lot of people have paid me to get her out of the way. A concrete box…a bullet in the brain…I’m not picky, but it seems Mr. Stark is having trouble fitting the cat into the box. I’m next in line.”

“Alright, fine,” Peter relented, “but there can’t be any collateral damage. This city’s seen too much as it is. Now one thing at a time. Karen’s already tracked Vlanakis to the south side. Be honest with me because it’s like I’m missing a chapter in whatever endless monologue you’ve got going on. Where was the part that you decided to call this off?”

Wade sighed, “It was a pipe dream that I’d even see you while in the city, let alone fall into your web. But hey, right time, right place, huh? I didn’t think about it. I wanted to chase my chances since they seemed uncharacteristically in my favor. Last night was good…real good. Too good to be true so…I figured it was time to face the music. Or not.”

Peter absorbed this and said, “I didn’t think you thought so little of me.”

“It was — What?” he blurted. “I’m your biggest fan and you’re the smartest little sexy shit I know! What d’you mean?”

“This is about your scars,” Peter said gently.

“Ah…you noticed my patchwork, huh?” Wade said indifferently, but Peter could hear the soreness behind his words. He looked over his arm like his scars were visible. “It’s much more difficult to ignore with your eyes, believe me. Can’t invite a walking scab to dinner.”

“You’re not a walking scab,” Peter refuted.

“I’m pretty scabby.”

“Because you’re too cheap for lotion, maybe,” he sassed.

“I am a lot of things, but cheap is definitely one of them,” Wade agreed. “Besides, my work involves travel. I don’t have a home base. Do you have a track record with long distance relationships?”

Peter considered that. “I’ve been so busy it might as well have been.”

Wade stared at him. “You have the uncanny skill of making things even sadder than I do. Look, I’m sorry for leading you on, but I think it is better for us to keep a working relationship.”

“Do you even know what that is?” Peter retorted.

Wade shook his head, pacing in place. “I shouldn’t date people smarter than me.”

“Apparently we’re not dating,” Peter remarked. “Dating involves trust, which you haven’t returned. And communication. How’s that for irony?”

“Hey, alright, Karen already gave me the spiel,” Wade hushed as Peter approached the edge. “This goes a little more than skin deep—”

He stopped himself and sighed. “I don’t want to argue. I’m not good at it and you’re too smart for me to try. We’re working together on this case and I want to enjoy it.”

“I know you like me more than you’re admitting,” Peter agreed. “That’s why you’re scared.”

Wade huffed a laugh as he began wandering back along the scaffolding. “It’s been a long time since someone accused me of being afraid.”

“Welcome to the hero business,” Peter said. “We’re all afraid. What makes you a hero is how you handle it while choosing the right thing.”

“Thank you, sensei,” Wade waved his hand over his shoulder. “But let’s stick to what we’re good at. I’ll see you on the south side.”

“Wade,” Peter called. He turned around. “Little known fact about spiders: they can see in the dark.”

He let his feet slip from the steel grid, swinging between the alleys while he left Wade to process that.

* * * * * * *

Doctor Vlanakis stood with her arms crossed in the pizzeria, looking for all intents and purposes like a regular customer. She turned and smiled at him when he greeted, “I gotta ask, doctor, how’d you escape a containment drone that even the military can’t afford?”

She chuckled as a pizza was boxed and slid over the counter. “Cheese-less mushroom and artichoke for Athena! Yo, Spidey, you want somethin’?”

“I’m all set, thanks,” he answered as he followed her out of the shop.

“Your venom is good,” she said as they walked into the Battery Park overlooking the Hudson River, “but I’ve engineered my blood to be particularly strong against poisons.”

Peter looked at her, impressed, as he ignored children pointing at him or the teenager taking a picture. “That’s cool! But...there are a lot of poisons out there, and none of them work the same.”

She smirked. “Yes there are.”

Peter sighed, “Look. Killing is not my thing, so you’ve got two options. Either I take you in, or Deadpool does his job.”

“So live in a cage or embrace death,” she considered as she extracted a slice from the box.

“I dunno what sorta cage is involved,” Peter admitted, “but you’re smart and resourceful. I’m sure some kinda arrangement could be made if you stopped your terrorist habits.”

“Working for the Avengers?” she critiqued skeptically. “I don’t see us getting along.”

“Really?” Peter teased. “Mass collateral damage isn’t your forte?”

She frowned while she chewed. “I’m not sure why you’re proud of your technology if your intel didn’t note how I’m not a murderer.”

“That argument’s off the table since you pinned Deadpool to a building.”

“Can’t validate your argument either, since it sounds like he’s still on the job,” she cornered.

Peter supplied, “We place murder and manipulation in the same category, especially when there’s a fifty-fifty chance your victims succumb to insanity. Murder and induced neurosis both involve a certain lack of consent, you see.”

“Interesting statement from a man,” she cornered.

Peter raised a palm in defense. “Then tell me this: what did you want from the Cloisters? It wasn’t me, though catching me was certainly a bonus you wanted.”

She eyed him, visibly impressed. He supplied, “Come on, I know a heist when I see one, although yours was the smoothest one, by far.”

“Thank you,” she replied smugly.

“But their galleries have been checked,” he said. “What were you looking for that you didn’t find?”

“First, tell me why Stark wants a high maintenance hostage,” she countered. Athena rotated from where she leaned against the railing overlooking the water.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I haven’t asked.”

She snorted softly. “Eager to please, aren’t you?”

“I’m the last person to call obedient,” he defended and then added lowly, “Not after he used me for curry delivery service once.”

Athena coughed on her food, covering her mouth while she laughed.

“Are you flirting?” Wade exclaimed behind them.

Her chuckles dwindled as she wiped her mouth. “You know, I’m not sure. He’s approached me for conversation while _you_ are not killing me on sight. What’s changed?”

Peter answered, “Every villain is the protagonist in their head. We only disagree because we’re not in their perspective.”

She blinked contemplatively. “You’re right. But we can’t bother getting along with the more popular vigilantes.”

She closed her pizza box and began walking away. Peter called, “So what’s your perspective?”

Athena rotated. “Pardon?”

“What do you want?” he elaborated. “What’s your motiv? Pitch it to me.”

She laughed merrily. “Whatever for?”

“He’s taken a liking to sin,” Wade intercepted.

Athena leaned against the rail once more. “I can tell you this: Stark either wants my help or he wants me out of the way.”

“Ooo,” Wade cooed. “Multiple villains afoot.”

“Who is it?” Peter asked.

Instead of answering, she said, “My men and I were tracking before we were interrupted.”

“I can’t release your guys,” Peter apologized.

Wade picked up, “A lady with her hounds on the loose is a big deal. Hecate would be a little too proud.”

Athena’s head tilted as she smiled. “You are more knowledgeable than you look.”

“I know. I get objectified as a sex magnet all the time. There are actually brains in here,” Wade commended.

“Then what will you make of this,” she offered, flicking something at him.

Peter recognized a medieval coin when he saw it. “I thought…the Cloisters said nothing was stolen.”

“Nothing on display,” she agreed, “and nothing they can reveal because they shouldn’t have it in the first place.”

“Fancy,” Wade appraised as he turned the coin over. “Looks like currency for a goddess cult, but that would mean it was large enough to govern a city, if not a region.”

“Yes it would,” she encouraged.

“For the scientist here,” Peter intercepted, “could you explain?”

“Hecate was the Greek minx of witchcraft,” Wade provided as he handed him the coin. “Among other things. She’s on one side while a hound and owl are on the other. She was hot for knowledge before Athena was cool. No offense.”

The lady smirked. “None taken.”

“How do you know it’s not just, like…a token?” Peter asked as he rotated the coin in his fingers. The flattened nugget was almost soft to the touch, as if the century had not mastered mixing metals yet. “Something to show people so they know you’re in the same club?”

“If it was a secret, there wouldn’t be a maker’s stamp on it,” she said.

“Secret orgy party or not,” Wade said as he stepped between them to recline on the railing, “I’m more interested in how it’s made of gold. Not silver. The lady is associated with the moon, not the sun.”

“Give the man a prize,” she approved, taking back the coin before Peter popped the back of her hand, tossing it into the air for him to catch.

“It’s still stolen,” he reminded. To Athena’s credit, she did not seem overly bothered.

“So our baddie wants to make Manhattan the second generation?” Wade guessed. His head tilted to look at the sky. “They’re going to need a good strategy. People don’t really take well to new religions. Devout Americans, especially.”

“I don’t think he’s asking,” she remarked. “If it were me, I’d flatten the island back into a forest, for a start.”

Wade looked at Peter. “Talk about radical environmentalism.”

“You said ‘he’,” Peter focused.

“Yeah,” she finally sighed. “A warlock.”

Wade’s head jerked. “Oh. Naughty boy.”

“Explain, please,” Peter ordered.

Wade did, “It’s not your fantasy genre badass. A warlock is the _see-you-next-Tuesday_ of witch insults. It’s a word to start a fight.”

“It’s a traitor, is what it is,” Athena retorted.

“Mm. Sounds personal,” Wade appraised.

“It sounds like someone on your team went rogue,” Peter seconded, “which means working with you is going to be difficult as we have contrasting end goals for Manhattan.”

“A coven civil war, huh,” Wade agreed, but then he turned to her, “Why haven’t we seen anything from this guy?”

“Because he travels via shadow,” she relayed.

Spider-Man and Deadpool stared at her. Athena sighed, “You should look into the man calling himself Cerberus.”

“Jesus cock,” Wade swore. “You people and your names.”

She and Peter simultaneously countered, “Deadpool?”

“Mine’s actually cool.”

Peter uttered indignantly, “Mine is cool.”

Wade palmed his face, squeezing his cheeks. “Yes you are, my sweetheart.”

Peter smacked his hand off as he returned to Athena, “So what is this? A race to see who takes over Manhattan first? And why us? Out of the whole world, why Long Island for your Earth Day agenda?”

Peter felt something recoil in his chest at the smirk she gave him. “I came here a few things. You being one of them. I can’t fault the man for following me here, even if piggy-backing on proper intelligence and strategy is pathetic.”

Wade stepping in front of him obstructed Peter’s view. “He’s taken, scary cougar lady. Get your own spider.”

She laughed and shifted her weight as if preparing to depart. “Everyday is earth day, pretty boy. I suggest you stay out of the way. We’re out of your league, even if you don’t believe me now.”

“Why does that sound destructive?” Peter sighed.

“How do you know he’s pretty?” Wade interjected as she walked away.

Athena responded as her figure began fading from view…her heels melting into transparency and following up her body. “I prefer women,” she finished, “but I know a good ass when I see one. Nice shoulders too. I don’t have plans for a week, gentlemen. See you then.”

She was no longer visible as they last heard, “And don’t worry. His tactics will be far worse than mine.”

Wade remarked, “We really ought to find out how she does that.” He looked at Peter. “You’re letting her go?”

“It’s a simple cloaking mechanic paired with something else. Either she’s getting careless or she’s over confident. She’s definitely using more science than she’s letting on. Karen’s running diagnostics now, but I want to talk to Stark first.”

“That’s nice, except super villains never tell you a schedule and then stick to it. They’re just not that considerate.”

“Don’t worry, I put a track-web on her,” Peter hushed. “I’ll know everything from her bathroom routine to her hair products.”

“You _do_ remember she can blackout electronics, right?” Wade reminded as Peter began walking away.

“You _do_ know I’m a veteran superhero, right?” Peter returned. “Give me some credit: I only make mistakes once. Or twice. No more than three times.”

“Uh huh,” Wade said with some degree of skepticism. “Still don’t like me killing people, huh?”

“I’ve known too many villains with hearts,” he corrected. “No one saved them when they needed it. Maybe I’ll get the lead with her.”

Wade huffed as he wandered in no particular direction. “People call it a hero complex. I call it a pain in my ass.”

“That’s rich coffee from somebody who’s not dating the barista,” Peter sassed as he looked at the teenager who had been inching closer and closer to get a better picture. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

She startled and shuffled away. Peter’s gaze returned to Wade, who still moved restlessly. “So, uh…you saw…the whole time?”

Peter’s voice gentled. “When you faked the voice at my aunt’s, I thought it was some radical fire burns mixed with too much smoking.”

“Why would I give an ash tray a blow job?” Wade retorted, but his quieter tone gave him away. “You haven’t seemed to mind.”

“I’m pretty enough for the both of us.”

That effectively caught Wade off guard, and after a moment he laughed. “Yeah, you are. Prettiest spider in the whole world.”

“I’ll ignore how few of us there are.”

“You should,” Wade uttered warmly. “You’re not going to ask about my dashing anti-hero, rogue warrior, assassin with a cause status?”

Peter shrugged. “I can’t dislike somebody who chooses his targets with care. There’s something to be said for a lunatic who leaves his guns at home because it’s triggering for his crush.”

Wade brushed nonexistent dust from his chest. “I’m one in eight billion.”

“You’re humble too.”

Wade coughed. “So…guess I’ll be in New York a while longer.”

“I guess so,” Peter agreed, recommencing his path out of the park. “Seems we have nothing else to do but to have a race. I’ll even give you a head start. I gotta get some photos to the Bugle. Don’t break my door down.”

Wade’s eyes widened before he said, “You actually work for that alliteration Jameson prick?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it work,” Peter laughed, “As long as I keep the photos coming, I stay on the pay roll. He doesn’t even notice I’m not there. Too busy yelling about Spider-Man.”

He leapt at least fifteen feet into the air and swung away as Deadpool took off running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [If you're enjoying the story, please consider buying me a ko-fi <3](https://ko-fi.com/A6311TK4)   
>  [You can also read a bonus chapter here!](https://www.patreon.com/posts/date-night-from-21331434)

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but dividing things made it easier~ You can imagine whatever Peter you want; there isn't a specific actor in mind for this.
> 
> You're welcome to visit me on [My Tumblr](http://pondermoniums.tumblr.com/) or [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/Pondermoniums)


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